Jno  W. 


c^ 


> 


«:• 


these  "Ulandering  Chords" 

that  have  floated  through  the  strings 
of  different  literary  instruments, 
during  an  otherwise  busy  profess 
ional  life,  are  gathered  by  request, 
merely  to  recall  to  a  few  intimate 
friends  some  varied  human  hopes, 
experiences,  trials,  sentiments  and 
affections,  still  lingering  about  a 
maturing  harper  and  his  harp. 


or  THE 


:;ITY 


INDEX. 


PAGE 

My  Southern  Nightingale 8 

The  Spirit's  Hour 4 

Christ  Tide  5 

Damascus 6 

The  Magi 7 

Stronger  Than  Death — Spiritual  Comradeship 8 

St.  Valentine 9 

Ruth 10 

Arma  Virumque  11 

The  Victor 12 

13 

Garlands 14 

Boanerges 15 

Commanded  16 

17 

Feste  Burg 18 

Freedom 19 

Victory  of  Trenton 20 

Elephantis 21 

Self  Reliance 22 

Caiaphas 23 

Two  Ways 24 

Stephen  Stoned  25 

The  Living  Church 26 

Magdalen 27 

John  Brown's  Grave 28 

A  Vision 29 

II  Penseroso 30 

Buonarotti's  Madonna  and  Child 31 

Stabet  Mater 32 

His  Time— Esperanza— Hespera— Precaution 33 

A  Contrast— The  Lily  and  The  Rose :54 

"     35 

Gavin  and  Babbie.. .  ..-36 


II  INDEX. 

Japanese  Lilies 37 

Buddha  Bell    38 

Japanese  Nocturne 89 

Fire  Flies 40 

Rest 41 

Stars  of  Midsummer 42 

Orpheus — • 43 

Voices 44 

45 

Great  Hearted 46 

Easter  Resurgit 47 

Spring  Bugles  

Spring  Snow ...  49 

March  Breezes 50 

My  Artist  Palette 51 

•«      52 

Whip-po'will 53 

Robin  Red 54 

Beauty  or  Love 55 

Maidenhood 56 

Her  Challenge 57 

58 

Sweet  Briar 59 

All  Three 60 

Southern  Nightingales 61 

The  Full  Moon  and  the  Bird 62 

Love's  Waiting 63 

Little  Love  Cries 64 

Sparkles 65 

Gay  or  Grave 66 

The  Covering  of  Dreams .   —  67 

Love's  Wedding  Ring 68 

Her  Secret 69 

Our  Wedding  Hour 70 

One  Instant 71 

Love's  Passion 72 

73 

Love's  Canticle 74 

The  Woodland  Wound 75 


Slumbers  77 

Peace 78 


INDEX.  in 

Pregnancy 79 


Evolving 81 

Harvest  Moon 82 

Aucassin  and  Nicolette 83 

"       84 

Memory 85 

The  Last  Swan 86 

Longing  and  Flight  87 

Dove  Wings 88 

L'Aille  Volante 89 

90 

The   Visitor  . .  . .  91 


Homeward  93 

Eagles 94 

Dante  and  Beatrice 95 

II  Paradiso 96 

Segments 97 

Thought  and  Action 98 

Head  and  Heart 99 

My  Home 100 

Sweet  Wild  Rose 101 

One  White  Rose 102 

God's  Tokens 103 

Ministering  Angels 104 

Martha's  Spirit 105 

"     106 

My  Oversoul 107 

Consolation 108 

Sheaves 109 

Ixion 110 

Affliction Ill 

112 

November  118 

The  Latter  Rain 114 

Those  Forms  Celestial 115 

116 

Winter  Stars 117 

"     —The  Diamond 118 

Follow  Thou  Me 119 

The  Bird  and  the  Grave...  ...120 


^ 

,V£\S 

^  * 


SITY 

my  Southern  nightingale. 

HEARD  thy  tender  voice,  sweet  Love, 

That  called  erstwhile,  across  the  void ; 
It  dropped— like  moonlight— from  above 
When  faith  and  hope  were  nigh  destroyed: 

It  came  and  settled  like  a  balm 
Within  my  bosom— still  and  calm. 

The  world  had  proved  too  rude  and  wild, 

Too  brutal  far  for  birds  of  peace ; 
Too  dank  and  bleak  lor  nature's  child, 

And  almost  made  fond  love  to  cease ! 

But  thy  sweet  notes  awoke  the  air 
And  bade  me  banish  all  despair! 

The  days  had  grown  too  sad  for  me! 
I  loved  the  long  nights  deep  and  clear 
When  stars  drooped  down  and  came  so  near ! 

Then  love  sang  low,  and  rich,  and  free! 

—I  know  the  fragrance  of  the  year ! 
-I  keep  Thy  Voice-in  heart  and  ear! 


Cbe  Spirit's  bour. 

mocking  bird,  full  oft,  in  vesper  twilight 


Croons  in  a  low  refrain,  to  south  winds  soughing  by; 
And  tunes  his  glowing  throat  to  echo  back  each  trill 
Of  far  off  fading  notes,  from  warblers  in  the  sky. 
When    every   murmuring    chord  has    sunk  beneath 

my  reach 
He  sits,  alert  there  still,  himself  the  sound    to  teach 

So  with  that  "still  small    Voice"  that    broods   o'er 

poet  soul, 

So  sacred  sweet  and  low— mysteriously  shy ! 
Ye  cannot  catch  its  call,  nor  hear  the  chariot  roll 
When    fanning  seraph    wings   and  thundering  hosts 

go  by, 

Except  in  holy  tryst  ye  wait— nor  deaf  nor  blind- 
Like  weird  .Eolean    hurp   wooed  by  the  whispering 

wind. 


Then  breathe  the  mystic  spells  that  haunted  Orleau'e 

maid; 
The  trump  that summoned  Troy;  the  Sibyl  leaves  for 

Rome ! 
Then  drops  the  Manna  Dew;  then  breaks  the  Mugie 

Bread, 
While  thousand  souls   are    fed    that   to   the   master 

come! 
Then  John  on  Patmos  hears— then  Paul  by  waytide 

sees 
The   heavenly  Light  of  Life,  while   faiuting  to  their 

knees! 


Christ  tide. 


i  OND  friend,  accept  these  Christmas  lines  from  me, 
Borne  on  the  gentle  wings  of  modest  minstrelsy. 
For  Love  is  like  the  ever-verdant  pine 
More  fresh  and  deathless  as  the  days  decline. 

See  how  serene  and  peacefully  it  stands, 
Made  all  the  fairer  by  the  whitening  lands. 

Look!    Dost  thou  watch  the  winter  solstice  grow; 
Orion's  diamonds  gleam -the  Pleiad  tapers  glow; 

The  shimmering  moon   mount  through  her  mystic 
skies 

Leading  the  beacon  lights  of  Paradise? 

Hush !    Dost  thou  note  how  every  crystal  rill, 
Each  pearly  brook,  each  limpid  lake,  lies  still? 

Each  blithesome  bird,  each  flower  in  forest  glade? 

And  over  Earth  her  snowy  mantle  laid ! 

Hark  I    Hear  it  burst-the  chime  of  Christmas  bells ! 
O'er  mistletoe  and  holly  seraphs  breathe  their  spells! 

He  comes!  with  love  aglow  and  pity  warm; 

A  million  cherub  hearts  cling  to  His  holy  arm ! 

'Tis  Love  that  lives  and  reigns  with  Life  Divine! 
All  hearts  are  one  tonight— so  mine  with  thine. 


Damson. 

f"Not disobedient  to  the  Heavenly  Vision."  Bible;} 

ACH  soul,  upon  the  path  of  life,  beholds 

A  Revelation ! 
And  the  fair  "Beulah  Land"  unfolds 
To  each  one's  station. 

The  sacred  spirit  conies,  with  thrilling  voice, 

And  lo—  a  Vision ! 
Then  is  the  hour  of  holy  choice- 
Decision  ! 

faint  soul  of  man,  by  mystic  angels  led 

Obedient  be,  and  ready; 
So,  safely,  bravely  by  The  Master  led, 
March  steady! 

Thus  shall  thy  Way  of  joy  grow  strong 

In  full  endeavor ; 

And  thy  bright  path  through  Heaven  prolong 
Forever  1 


Cbe  magi. 

(bT  HE  magi  came  at  Christmas  Tide. 
*_L     Into  the  night,  with  gifts  resplendent  ! 
Coursers,  camels,  robes  of  pride, 
Wealth  of  satellites  dependent. 

They  came  with  pomp,  they  came  from  far 
And  followed  fast,  the  "Morning"  Star. 

Lo!  in  a  cradle  made  of  hay 
A  monarch  from  the  heavens  lay. 
Was  it  a  king,  in  glory  dight  ? 
No!  'twas  a  Child,  in  pink  and  white  ! 
It,  too,  had  traveled  alone  from  far, 
And  came  in  the  arms  of  the  "Evening"  Star. 

Which  of  the  twain  shall  we  worship  most, 
The  star  with  the  train  and  the  splendid  host. 
The  star  of  Triumph,  the  star  of  Power? 
Or  the  star  that  twinkles  at  twilight  hour, 

The  Love  Star  tender?    now  watch  and  see, 
It  is  the  Magi  that  bend  their  knee! 

Ah!  splendors  of  wisdom,  pride  and  wealth; 
Glories  of  genius,  knowledge,  health  ; 
Powers  of  busy  brain  and  feet; 
All  of  the  treasures  of  earth  complete; 
Spirit  of  Beauty  and  Ix>ve !  at  last 
At  Thy  tiny  feet  all  crowns  are  cast ! 


Stronger  than  Death. 

*|     |  RIFT  winter  winds!    Drive  chilling  frosts 
0iv    The  strength  of  love  is  what  it  costs. 
The  strain  we  bear  for  our  Ideal 

Is  that  which  proves  us  true  and  real. 

For  love  is  not  that  fleeting  name 

Feeding  itself  on  Passion's  flame ; 
But  that  serene,  celestial  Fire 

In  which  our  baser  selves  expire! 

It  is  the  pute  unsullied  snow 
That  journieth  whore  the  winds  blow. 

It  cometh— whence?    It  goeth— whither? 
Ah!  'tis  a  shaft  from  God's  own  quiver! 

Its  wing  is  wide— its  flight  is  long; 
And  deathless  is  its  Death  Song! 


Spiritual  Comradeship. 

WEET  friend,  so  fair,  serene  and  pure, 

I  turn  to  thee  as  toward  my  compass  sure, 
Not  with  the  flickering  flame  of  vain  desire 
But  for  the  soul's  deep  fountains  to  inspire! 

I  dare  not  covet— As  with  evening  star 
I  watch,  I  wonder,  and  I  worship— from  afar 
x 


Saint  Uakntine. 

(5T  RUE  deathless  Love  is  not 

*  JL    That  breeze  that  comes  and  goe= 
Nor  is  it  that  faint  fragrance 
That  fadeth  from  the  rose. 

Nor  is  it  that  still  beauty 
That  haunts  in  pearly  shell; 

Nor  soft  and  trembling  music 
—So  sweet— that  there  doth  dwell. 

Ah  me !    It  is  that  Something 

That  grows  within  a  seed ; 
That  struggles  up  to  Beauty, 

To  Fragrance,  Music,  Deed! 

Still  in  those  roots  'tis  living! 

'Tis  slumbering  in  the  shade ! 
It  cannot  pass  nor  perish ! 

For  not  by  earth  'twas  made. 


Ruth. 

A  V /HERE  thou  goest  I  would  go! 

W      With  the  rise  or  fall  of  tide, 
In  the  ebbing  or  the  flow, 

Where  thou  bidest  I'd  abide  ! 

Nothing  other  would  I  know, 

Over  earth  or  under  sea ; 
Nothing  that  the  world  can  show 

Would  I  share  apart  from  thee! 

On  thy  breast  my  heart  would  lean  ; 

In  thine  arms  -beside  thy  cheek ! 
Nothing  half  so  dear  hath  been, 

Bravely  true  and  tender  meek! 

Oh,  beloved,  I  am  thine, 

Though  the  stars  fall  from  their  skies! 
All  the  constellations  shine 

In  the  vortex  of  thine  eyes ! 

When  the  angel  choirs  ring 
And  the  trump  of  God  <hall  call, 

To  thy  heaven  my  spirit  bring! 
Be  my  Eden— all  in  all! 


Lfl 


JFfrma  Uirumtiuc. 

A  V  /HO  is  the  hero?    Not  the  brave 
VV        Who  on  the  field  of  glory  sleep: 

Immortal  banners  o'er  them  wave 
And  the  proud  states  their  vigil  keep! 

Who  is  the  hero?    'tis  the  slave 
For  whom  the  gentle  angels  weep; 

Who  toiling  onward  to  the  grave 
Has  but  his  tryst  with  God  to  keep! 

Who  is  the  hero?    "Tig  the  weak, 
The  martyrs,  prophets,  poets,  seers 

Who,  through  the  long  nights  dnrk  and  bleak, 
Watch— till  the  Lord-of-Life  appears. 


the  Uictor. 


me  what  is  brave  and  strong 
In  Life's  battle  task  so  long ! 
Is  it  hidden  deep  in  History? 
May  the  seer  discern  its  mystery? 


It  is  not  the  lion  tawny, 

Nor  cold  glinting  Croesus  money. 

Croesus  and  his  hoard  have  perished; 

All  he  grasped  and  saved  and  cherished; 
And  the  lion,  in  the  wild, 
Slaughtered  fell  by  dart  of  child! 


I  will  tell  you  what  is  strong: 
He  that  watcheth  all  night  long 
By  the  bed  of  loved  and  lost ; 
Counteth  all  that  love  hath  cost- 
As  the  death  damp  settles  o'er  it, 
And  the  heart  hath  broke  before  it, 

And  the  pale  lips  pant  and  quiver 
By  the  dark  ban*  of  Death's  river ! 


Shall  I  tell  you  what  is  bravo? 
Tis  to  stand  beside  the  gr.-ive 
Of  a  Hope  forever  thwarted, 
Of  a  Joy  forever  slaughtered ; 
But  to  stand  and  battle  on 

'Till  the  victory  is  won ! 


(TO and  find  me  now  a  monster 
Prom  the  jungle  or  the  mountain ; 
I  will  find  you  some  sweet  songster, 
And  the  laugh  of  gurgling  fountain  ! 
But  the  monster's  name  shall  perish, 
And  his  bones  shall  deck  the  mountain ; 

And  the  songster— God  shall  cherish, 
And  the  earth  shall  guard  the  fountain! 
12 


Bring  me  now  a  mighty  warrior 
Who  hath  slaughtered  many  a  foeman; 
Time  shall  chain  him  in  its  barrier, 
And  the  stars  shall  blight  his  omen! 
They  shall  chase  him  in  their  courses— 
Sizera  fled,  with  all  his  horses ; 

And  Beltshazzar  at  the  feast 

Saw  his  power  and  pride  had  ceased ! 


Do  you  think  the  Christ  was  weak 
When  he  stood  so  wan  and  meek 
Struck  by  blow  of  brutal  soldier? 
Tell  me,  pray,  which  man  was  bolder, 
He  who  struck— or  he  who  stood 
For  the  Victory  of  the  Good? 


Do  you  think  that  Love  is  best 
Slumbering  on  its  idol's  breast 
When  the  night  lamp  glinteth  low 
And  the  heart  beat  pulseth  so? 

When  the  curtain's  softly  drawn 
'Till  the  purling  of  the  dawn? 


No!    That  Love  is  deeper,  stronger, 
That  must  ever  onward  wander ; 
Knowing  well  its  wealth  of  rapture 
Is  too  choice  for  time  to  capture! 
It  is  tender— it  is  meek , 
And  its  voice  too  low  to  speak- 
But  it  scaleth  Heaven's  wall 
At  the  Trump-of-Gabriel's  call ! 


There,  within  celestial  chalice, 
Far  from  sorrow,  pain  or  malice, 
Free  fromworaly  blight  or  stain, 
Thou  shall  find  such  love  again ; 
All  that  wealth  of  Passion  tender, 
Robed  in  angel  forms  so  slender; 

Where  the  seraph  choirs  are  pure 
And  the  Peace-of-God  is  sure! 
13 


Garlands. 

("DECORATION   DAY.") 


HE  gathered  garlands  deck  the  soil 

Which  marks  the  hero's  strife  and  toil, 
From  Marathon  to  Waterloo 
There's  ever  some  brave  deed  to  do ! 

Be  it  the  mother,  at  the  birth, 
Bringing  some  new  soul  down  to  earth  ; 
Or  weary  father,  at  the  plow, 
While  anxions  furrows  sear  his  brow ; 

Some  brother,  plunging  in  to  save 

Some  sister  from  a  watery  grave; 
Some  sister  sewing  long  and  late 
To  help  some  brother  to  grow  great ! 

How  shall  we  measure  "hero"  blood 
Which  bears  the  brunt  for  human  good? 
There  is  no  limit,  standard,  bourn 
To  the  brave  lives  for  whom  we  mourn. 

Save  that  one  limit— "what  we  can" ! 

Save  that  one  standard— "perfect  man" ! 
The  hero  springs  at  Heaven's  call, 
He  does  his  utmost — that  is  "all"! 


14 


Boanerges. 

'I  answered  thee  in  the  secret  place  of  thunder.  "--Bible. 


Y 1  HE  forces  of  God's  Word 

Are  hidden  with  the  Lord  ; 
From  the  shades  of  his  pavilions 
Doth  he  watch  and  ward  the  millions 

Of  his  host. 

Of  all  those  ranks  resplendent 
And  the  trusts  on  Him  dependent. 
None  are  lost ! 

Oh,  wounded  for  his  cause! 
Dost  though  tremble,  then,  and  pause? 
Oh,  souls  so  full  of  sorrow 
And  anxious  for  the  morrow 

Of  his  Sun, 

'Mid  the  mystery  and  wonder, 
From  His  "Secret  Place  of  Thunder," 
It  is  done! 


15 


Commanded. 

T  was  the  breach  of  battle— and  the  cry, 
Rose  like  a  wail  of  agony:  "They  fly"! 
The  first  battalion— over  on  the  right? 
My  bravest  men!— ail  night 

They've  held,  alone,  that  hill. 
Great  God!  but  for  one  hour  still 
Till  daylight  come  and  aid ! 


Hark!  there,  I  hear  the  drum '.—afraid? 
What,  every  one?— to  go 
Across  the  valley,  in  the  teeth  of  that  fieiee  foe 

and  tell? 
Oh,  some  one  must,  though  it  be  through  the 

mouth  of  hell ! 


Here,  drummer  boy,  you're  fleet; 
Lighter  than  stags  your  feet, 
Drop  drum  and  all! 
Haste  to  that  wall! 
And  cry 

To  the  brave  men  on  high, 
"Help  is  at  hand, 
Only  stand!" 

Fleet  as  a  deer— fast  he  bounds! 
Shot  at  and  pierced  through  with  wounds; 
Blood  stained  his  fair  boyish  hair; 
Fallen!  twice!  thrice!  but  he's  there, 
And  they  hold  with  a  cheer! 

Hard  pressed,  worn  down,  but  grim. 
With  the  bright  news  from  him. 
16 


And  when  our  fresh  troops  sweep 
Over  the  foe— up  the  steep— 

And  the  great  fight  was  won ; 

When  all  was  told  and  done; 
There  on  the  blood  stained  grass, 
In  a  sleep  that  should  never  pass, 

Lay  our  boy— lay  our  pride ! 

And  our  tears  though  we  hide, 
Still  I  can  see,  now, 
How  the  troops  kissed  his  brow, 

As  the  colonel's  own  voice  said  the  prayer 

Which  had  cried  that  "command"  of  despair. 


As  we  laid  the  frail  corpse  to  its  rest, 
Taking  tokens  for  those  he  loved  best, 
"Mother's  Bible"  we  found  on  his  breast. 
Then  the  sods  fell,  and  choked  was  our  breath 
And  we  wrote  over:  "FAITHFUL  TIL  DEATH." 


17 


Testc-Hwrg. 

[  "Having  done  all— stand !  "    Bible.  ] 

^ T  HE  long  brave  battle  is  complete ! 

Our  rugged  veterans  have  swept  the  hill. 
About  are  faint  and  fallen  at  our  feet 
And  the  loud  clarion  halts  us— "Still!  " 

The  Truth  has  vanquished  and  the  sullen  foe 
Has  struck  his  colors  and  surrendered  sword  ; 

The  terms  God  grants  him,  tho'  we  may  not  know, 
"  Be  still  and  patient!  "  is  the  Captain's  word. 

Strong  sunlight  sweeps  the  war  fog  from  the  crest; 

Soft  breezes  fan  each  pained  or  fevered  brow ; 
Our  swords  in  scabbard,  and  our  arms  at  rest; 

"  Halt!  and  take  respite  "  is  the  order  now. 

So  sweet  the  ministries  that  angels  bring, 
And  bright  the  garlands  gathered  at  the  gate! 

Dost  thou  not  hear  the  prophets  and  the  martyrs  sing 
"  They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait "  ? 

Soldiers  of  Truth— thy  mighty  battle  done- 
Rest  now,  in  patience  on  His  Promised  Word ; 

Thy  warfare  ended,  and  thy  victory  won, 
Stand  still— and  see  The  Victory  of  God ! 


18 


freedom. 

OW  shall  we  sing  Great  Freedom's  song 

That  marcheth  on  through  ages  long, 

1^  . 
Her  feet  all  scarred  with  shard  and  thorn, 

Her  back  bent  by  the  burdens  borne? 

What  star  is  this  upon  Her  brow  ? 

—A  gleam  that  yearns  All  Truth  to  know ! 
What  song  is  ringing  in  her  ears? 

—It  is  the  Music  of  the  Spheres! 
What  pulse  that  fills  her  mighty  soul  ? 

—A  Mother's  Heart-  that  loves  the  Whole! 

What  Ephod,  shot  with  glittering  gems 
Shines  vast  between  Her  shoulder  hems? 
—These  are  the  kindly  gracious  Arts 
By  which  man  grows  his  noblest  parts. 

What  girdle  this,  so  broad  and  good  ? 
It  is  the  "  Band  of  Brotherhood  ." 

What  golden  cords  and  silver  line 
••-Enwrap  Her  loins— Her  garments  twine  ? 
They're  Duty,  Courage,  Faith  and  Prayer, 
And  Hope  triumphant  o'er  despair, 
And  Zeal  that  spreads  the  flame  of  Love 
'Till  every  tyrant  shackle's  clove ! 
And  Pity  bending  in  the  dust 
And  bearing  scorn  (where'er  she  must) 
To  lift,  to  lighten,  to  reveal, 
And  from  that  dust  to  God  appeal ! 

This  is  Her  Form— so  grand  and  free- 
That  marcheth  on  to  destiny! 
This  is  The  Mother  of  us  all, 
And  this  is  God-born-Liberty ! 


Che  Uictory  of  Crcnton. 

[  Anniversary.  ] 

(5\_T  ARK  !    The  beat  of  muffled  drum 
_J   \       Ragged  veterans— s'raining  fast! 
Starved  and  bleeding— lo!  they  conn- 
Frozen  by  the  wintery  blast ! 

What  is  poverty  or  shame. 
Shock,  privation,  wounds  or  fear? 

Lo!  their  hearts  are  all  aflame — 
Human  Liberty  is  near! 

Hounded  by  a  despot  lord. 

Pounded  by  the  river's  ice, 
"  Fatherland  "  is  still  their  word, 

Priceless  Freedom  still  their  choice! 

4 

/What  is  this  we  see  today 

Through  the  land  where  thus  they  bled  ? 
Subtler  tyrants  still  seek  sway, 

Sleek  Corruption  rears  its  head! 
Hush  the  march,  and  still  the  trump  f 

Mock  them  not  with  brazen  blare ; 
Purge  the  ballot  and  the  stump ; 

Save  the  Nation— ye  who  dare  I 

Boast  not  of  your  patriot  sires, 

Of  the  blood  they  shed  in  vainr 
While  ye  quench  their  sacred  fires, 

And  your  birthright  sell  "for  gain!" 
Who  will  fight  as  once  they  fought— 

Suffer  loss  and  scorn  and  shame 
That  our  land  shall  not  be  "  bought >r 

Nor  their  Freedom  fade— a  "name?  " 
'  20 


Ekptatfe. 

I  On    the  beautiful  group  of  mountains  near  Lake 
Placid,  N,  Y.,  railed  "  The  Giant  Elephants.  "  ] 

^  TALWART  and  grand 
V^  "The  Giants"  stand! 
Crystal  rocks  are  their  bones  within; 
Their  pulse  blood  is  the  living  spring; 
Their  long  scarred  seams  on  their  hoary  hides 
Are  the  gorges  of  the  forest  sides; 
Their  trunks  on  high  in  sublime  advance  ; 
Their  roar  the  mountain  avalanche! 

Emblems  of  TRUTH'S  almighty  power 

They  scorn  the  flight  of  the  passing  hour  ; 

The  mists  and  snows  they  little  heed, 

Coursing  their  rugged  loins  in  speed. 

The  tempest  flays  their  flanks  in  vain 

With  lightning's  scourge— with  blighting  rain. 

The  ages  come,  and  the  ages  go; 
The  spring  time  flowers— the  winter  snow, 
Clad  in  their  robes  of  ermine  white 
They  bare  their  brows  to  the  polar  night ; 
And  the  stars  of  God  shine  down,  in  light. 
Upon  their  splrndor  of  solemn  might! 


21 


Self  Reliance. 

thinketh  he  must  "diue  on  meat' 
Another  "tastes  but  herbs", 
Adores  conventions— this  or  that, 
While  Doubt  his  soul  disturbs. 


He  trembleth  at  the  breath  oner 
He  shrinks  to  suit  another, 

And  seeks,  by  shutting  out  the  sun, 
His  better  self  to  smother. 


They  care  not— cruel  critics  all— 

Whose  gain  is  other's  loss  -t 
Whose  pride  is  only  tinsel, 

Whose  virtue's  showy  dross ! 

The  angel  Death  shall  smite  them— 

The  end  of  Time  for  all ! 
The  heavenly  test  is :    "Who  has  lived? ' 

But  not  their  "codes"  at  all ! 

So— east  my  casemtuts  open! 

Let  in  the  joyous  day ! 
I  love— this  is  my  token— 

I  have  not  long  to  stay! 


to  Gaiapbas. 

3  CARE  not  a  coin  for  your  crown ! 
—Ye  priests  of  the  science  of  Self, 
With  phylacteries  falling  low  down 
But  your  prayers  and  your  poses  for  pelf! 
Ye  climb  to  your  steeples  so  high, 
Yet  mock  at  the  heroes  who  die. 
I  care  not  a  coin  for  your  blame! 

—Ye  drones  that  lay  burdens  so  vast 
Upon  Life  with  its  rapture  and  flame, 
Yet  out  of  your  temples  it  cast! 

I  gladly  haste  forth  from  your  wall       1 
To  find  Mercy  and  Beauty  for  all.  / 

Ye  trees  that  are  barren  of  figs 

—While  ye  rustle  and  flutter  your  leaves! 
I  fly  from  your  convents  of  prigs 
To  gather  life's  sacredest  sheaves! 

Ye  neither  pass  in  at  the  gate  *"*\ 

Nor  suffer  the  sad  that  there  wait. 
Go !  gather  your  harvest  of  dust 

And  whitewash  your  charnel  of  bones! 
Go  heap  up  your  coin— if  ye  must— 
And  pile  up  your  crumbling  stones! 

Build  houses— till  there  be  no  room ! 
They  shall  fall  at  the  first  crack  of  Doom! 
I  care  not  a  coin  for  your  pride 

It  is  false,  it  is  barren  and  drear; 
It  is  waste  that  is  washed  by  the  tide ; 
It  is  chaff— when  the  harvest  is  sere! 

Let  me  live !    Let  me  love  till  the  last ! 

I  will  still  live  and  love— when  all's  past! 


two  mays. 

»LJ  BRAIN— most  vain  for  clarity— 
QJ  _L  Came  marching  down  the  road. 
Said  he :  "  I'm  famed  for  charity ; 

I  grasp— then  give  abroad. 
My  wealth  is  without  parity, 
I  am— a  little  God!  " 

Just  then  there  passed  "A  Carpenter 
It  was  The  Christ  Our  Lord! 

He  bore  the  kit  of  toiler ; 

For  daily  tasks— the  tools; 
He  wore  the  garb  of  moiler 

(So  much  despised  by  fools) : 
He  passed  that  vain  despoiler 
Who  sought  His  Heaven  "  by  rules.  " 

Quoth  Christ :  "  Good  friend— a  losson 
I've  learned  in  High  Schools.  " 

"  Not  all  the  pricie  of  giving 
Can  lift  from  man  his  sins ; 
Nor  in  the  pomp  of  living 

Is  where  God's  grace  begins . 

Be  fair- -before  you're  generous; 

Be  modest— ere  you're  proud ; 

Do  Justice  and  love  Mercy, 
Walk  humbly  with  our  God." 


Stephen  Stoned, 

YE  did  not  give  me  Breath! 
I  was  sent  here 

With  many  a  longing,  faith  and  fear, 
Into  a  globe  like  one  vast  swollen  tear- 
To  save  from  death ! 

Ye  did  not  give  me  Life! 

I  came  upon  the  breeze, 

A  murmur  in  the  mulberry  trees ; 

A  spirit  sent  o'er  weltering  seas 
To  still  their  strife. 

Ye  did  not  give  my  Dream 

That  night  and  day  enwrapt  my  soul. 
And  bade  it  drink  its  bitter  bowl, 

And  to  the  mighty  social  whole 

Prove  far  more  than  I  seem ! 

Ye  did  not  give  me  Praise! 

—For  when  the  blows  of  fate  fell  fast, 

And  all  the  spite  of  Hell  was  cast 
Full  in  my  face— ye  too,  the  last, 

Your  hands  did  raise! 

Ye  did  not  give  my  Song! 

—Out  of  the  depths  there  came  A  Voice  to  me 
Saying :  "Arouse !  Rejoice !  Look  up  and  see ! 
Preach  to  the  poor  enslaved!   Go  set  them  free! 
Loose  their  dull  thong!  " 

And  so  I  sang  my  Lay : 

"God  is  a  SPIRIT  in  the  earth  and  air! 

He  breathes  in  atoms  all  that's  good  or  fair 
Beauty  for  ashes!    Fail  not  nor  despair, 

He  brings  The  Day!" 


Che  Cluing  Church. 

(C)T  HAT  great  day  cometh.saith  the  Lord. 
_L"Whounot  on  tablets,  stone, 
My  laws  of  Truth  and  Love  I'll  write, 
But  in  man's  nerve  and  bone. 

"Within  the  marrow  of  his  soul 

The  fibres  of  his  heart, 
I'll  grave  my  Codex— as  a  whole— 

Nor  scant  a  single  part. 

"No  longer  then  shall  steeples  tower 

To  totter,  strain  and  fall ; 
And  upwards,  in  that  sacred  hour, 

Shall  rise  no  narrow  wall! 

"With  heart  to  heart,  and  eye  to  eye, 

The  living— not  the  dead- 
Shall  be  my  Church,  and  in  them.  I 

Their  Bridegroom  shall  be  wed. 

"Not  Law,  but  Love,  shall  be  my  spouse ; 

My  children  those  of  Deed ; 
And  Human  Brotherhood  arouse 

From  cant  and  creed  and  greed. 

"United  shall  my  church  arise 

From  every  clime  and  age ; 
Against  the  host  of  hell— midskies— 

For  Michael  they'll  engage. 

"Victorious  then,  in  heavenly  peace, 

With  every  foe  o'erborne, 
Sorrow  and  Death  and  Hell  shall  cease, 

And  My  bright  Crown  be  worn.  " 


(5T  HEY  brought  me  to  the  Master 
*_L    And  said— "She's  devils  seven!" 
He  bade  them  "take  the  devils," 
But  took  me— into  Heaven! 

"She  sinned  because  she  loved  much 
She  shall  be  much  forgiven?" 

They  shrink  away,  revengeful, 

A  devil  in  each  heart ; 
They  tore  His  brow  with  brambles ; 

Through  me  they  drove  their  dart  r. 

*-  Bnt  Resurrection  morning 

I  heard  the  angels  call! 
I  was  'the  first'  to  clasp  HiinT 

I   did  "out  run  them  all'. " 


3obn  Brown's  6raec. 

(North  Elba.  Adirondack  M'ts.  N.  Y.) 

,/J    FIERCE  wild  cry  against  the  night! 
Q/  -L    A  shot— a  halter— and  a  grave! 
Here  lies  the  lion  in  his  broken  njight; 

There  mounts  the  unshackled  human  slave. 

Htvll  now,  and  safe  from  every  tyrant  foe, 
Upon  God's  uplands— hush— he  sleeps  in  peace! 

The  stern  grand  mountains,    in    their  purest  snow 
Guard  like  grim  wardens— until  warfares  cease. 

The  murmuring  forests  with  their  mighty  moan; 

The  lone  shrill  eagle  'mid  the  storm  swept  skies; 
The  age  carved  boulder  of  primaeval  stofle; 

Watch  where  the  old  saint's  bruised  body  lies. 

Hark!  from  the  eagle  upon  widespread  wing, 
I  hear  that  shrill  scream,  ever  and  anon  ; 

Here  by  the  sad  grave  humble  birdlets  sing; 
There  the  Great  "Ghost"  goes  marching  on! 


H  Uisiott, 

(5T  HEY  tell  me  that  John  Brown  is  "dead  \  " 

*JL    That  he  sleeps  in  his  grave— in  a  bed 
Of  the  rocks  and  the  sands,  and  the  snow 
And  the  forests  of  long,  long  ago. 

But  I  tell  them  I  wave  what  they  say 
To  the  winds  and  the  snowdrifts  at  play; 

For  at  midnight— at  Christmas— he  came 
In  the  moonlight— the  stillness— the  flame  f 

And  he  stood  at  my  window— so  white! 

—With  his  granite  face  grim  in  the  light ; 
And  the  Christ  child  was  clasped  to  his  side 

As  he  said :    "Forthis  child  I  once  died!  " 

Then  turning  as  though  they  must  go 
They  looked  in  my  heart  and  said,  low, 

"There  are  so  many  millions  to  save ; 
Should  one  sleep— in  one's  peace— in  one's  grave?' 


11  Pcnscroso. 

LD  yearsl  fond  years!  sad  years! 
Ah— Why  so  full  of  tears 
For  the  Jove  left  but  half  said 

—To  the  living— to  the  dead? 

<)— why  the  waste  and  strife 

When  the  fleeting  cup  of  life 
Is  rich  in  sweetest  joys 

For  the  hearts  that  Love  employs? 

Like  a  chord  that's  lost— a  strain 

That  may  never  come  again. 
Is  the  fragrance  of  those  years 

That  were  washed  away  in  tears 

Lord  of  Life  and  Love!    Once  more, 

Ere  we're  gathered  to  Thy  shore, 
O  come  to  us  again 

With  Thy  Love— without  the  pain! 


Bucmarotti's  madonna  and  Child. 

jMedici  Chapel.] 

/^G)  K AND  Sacred  Mother!  bending  low, 
VjT Above  thy  boy,  thy  marble  brow, 

And  brooding  on  the  coming  years  ; 

Thine  aching  heart  seems  strained  to  know 
Its  wealth  of  joy,  its  weight  of  woe, 
Too  deep  for  tears! 

Thine  ample  bosom,  rich  and  kind 
Seems  bending  down,  as  if  to  bind 

Its  pent  up  agonies! 

He  drinks  its  tide,  its  ebb  and  flow  ; 
And  like  a  giant  seems  to  grow 

To  deathless  destinies! 

Madonna  Mea!  grand  and  true! 
I  clasp  thy  knees ;  I  yearn  to  you 

In  speechless  sympathy! 

I  am  thy  humble  human  child, 
And  thou  our  "Blessed  Mother"  mild, 
By  His  "Fraternity. " 

Bind  me,  in  love,  upon  thy  breast ; 
There  firm  in  faith  and  trust  to  rest 
Eternally! 

Teach  me,  in  strength  like  his  to  grow, 
And  live  to  him — like  Angelo — 

And  Immortality! 


$tab*t  mater, 

f^~\  SERAPH  of  the  starry  zone 
Vl/     That  sitteth  by  the  open  tomb, 
Thou  rollest  back  the  ponderous  stone 
And  bid'st  the  risen  spirit:  " Come! '' 

Thou  sayest  to  him  that  falleth  low. 

And  clasps  thy  feet  with  humble  prayer, 
"Dear  soul—look  up  from  all  below! 

The  Lord  has  risen!    He  is  not  here." 


And  to  the  weeping  women,  dear, 

Who  stand  and  ring  their  hands  in  grief, 
Behold  thou  driest  every  tear, 

And  pourest  on  their  hearts  surcease. 

And  lo!  as  now  we  watch  the  Gate 
We  catch  His  streaming  light  afar ; 

And  hear  His  tender  voice :  "Await! " 
I  come— with  my  triumphal  car! " 


fiis  time. 

ASKED  the  good  Lord,  frankly. 

To  grant  me,  once,  a  prayer. 
He  seemed  to  keep  it  from  me 
I  swooned  in  blank  despair! 
The  night  lay  dank  about  me, 

The  shades  were  tightly  drawn, 
I  woke— and  cast  them  from  me ! 
The  gi  ft  was  there— by  dawn ! 


esperanza. 

IN  the  darkened  curtains  of  my  room 
I  watched  my  taper  die, 
And  dreamed,  because  of  gathered  gloom, 

Midnight  was  nigh. 
When  lo!  a  tender  star  diffused 

Its  faint  far  light; 
So,  through  Life's  hurtled  storms  confused. 

Love  loomed  in  sight ! 


fiespera. 

*  (bf  WAS  evening— in  midsummer's  hush 
*-*-    That  Love  came  down— with  Passion's  rush! 

—Only  the  angels  saw  her  blush. 


Precaution. 

7(    MET  a  lady  fair,  one  springtime  day, 
®    i  looked-she  said:  "You'd  better  look  away! 
I  looked  again-with  eyes  too  'tranced  to  part! 
She  smiled— serene— then  gently  broke  my  heart! 


fl  Contrast. 

Tf  SAW  a  cold  and  stalwart  wall 
&  Frown  down  to  lift  a  grapevine  small ; 
But,  when  the  vine  had  grown  to  strength, 
It  held  the  wall— through  all  its  length! 

•'The  wall"  was  Virtue.    But  "The  vine' 
That  was  of  Love  the  choicest  wine! 


Che  Cily  and  the  Rose. 

[A  Harmony  by  Contrast.] 

(OT  HERE  grew  a  lily  by  a  garden  close, 

*  JL  And  just  beside  there  flamed  a  ruby  rose. 
Quoth  lily:  "Thou  art  fairer,  friend,  than  I! 
See  how  immaculate  and  cold  I  lie, 

While  all  the  summer  odors  pass  me  by!  " 


Then  spake  the  rose  unto  the  lily  fair, 
"Thou  art  so  pure  and  white,  I  love  thy  air 
Of  stately  chastity— thou  restal  fine! 
Would  that  thy  gracious  elegance  were  mine: 

Naught  can  thy  classic  lines  and  forms  refine! 


"But,"  quoth  the  lily,  "by  thy  purpled  vest, 
And  all  thy  tangled  passion,  warm  impressed, 
I  know  thy  Heart— aflame  with  Rapture's  wine! 
Would  that  I  had  a  fragrance  such  as  thine! 

Naught  can  such  wealth  of  ecstacies  combine! 
34 


"O  Trumpet  of  the  Holy  one— so  white!" 
Thus  spake  the  rose :  "Thy  being, full  of  light, 
Is  matchless  music!  while  my  tangled  leaves 
Are  ravished  by  the  nectar  hunting  bees. 

And  I  am  swept  and  broken  by  the  breeze! 


Then  came  an  angel,  in  auroral  light, 
And  kissed  the  lily  on  that  cheek  so  white; 
And  culled  the  rose  and  laid  it  on  his  breast ; 
And  by  its  side  the  lily  slept  at  rest ; 

And  e'en  the  angel  knew  not  which  was  best. 

So  passing  through  the  Gate  of  Heaven,  he  trod 
The  pearly  Path  where  shone  the  throne  of  God. 
And  asked :  "Which  flower  in  Beauty,  ranks  above 
Its  fellow  fair?"  Then,  with  celestial  nod 

God  answered :  "one  is  TRUTH,  the  other  LOVE. 


"Hast  thou  not  read,  in  my  First  Book  (of  Truth) 
How  I  refined  pure  patient  Faith  in  Ruth? 
Yet  in  the  Second  Chapter  (of  my  Love) 
How  the  warm  Heart  of  Mary  I  approve- 
Though  the  red  dart  of  sorrow  through  her  drove?' 

Then,  stepping  down  to  earth,  the  Godhead  shone 
Upon  two  hearts  which  Fate  was  making  one. 
He  entered  like  "a  guest"— serene,  divine— 
The  crystal  Water  changed  to  luscious  Wine  ! 

So  burst  the  festal  joyance  into  flame! 

You  know  that  Feast-of-Cana— and  His  name. 


86 


Gapin  and  Babbie. 

[Character  in  Baryes'  "Little  Minister."] 

/^Q)  HEAT  nature's  heart  knows  every  child 

\*Tshe  bears  from  out  her  forests  wild, 

Or  vales,  or  hills,  or  moors,  or  glens; 

And  whither  each  one's  pathway  wends. 

She  gave  them  birth—  she  gave  them  grace- 
And  breathed  the  poem  of  each  face. 


Take  us,  O  Mother  Nature,  then, 
And  bear  us—  in  thine  arms—  again! 
We  long  unutterably  for  Thee; 
Into  Thy  bosom  broad  we  flee. 

Thine  are  the  tides  that  fire  our  blood; 

Thine  are  the  dreams  that  o'er  us  flood  ; 

Thine  are  the  longings  toward  the  good  ! 


But  what  is  Good?    Great  Nature,  Thou 

Alone  canst  tell— when?— who?— and  how? 

So  let  the  voices  of  the  blest 

That  stir  us,  lead  us,  too,  to  rest. 

And  in  the  place  of  void  and  chill 
With  Thy  full  Self  our  beings  fill! 


Japanese    Cilics. 

3  SAT  in  silence  watching 
Some  bulbs  of  lilies  grow. 
When  all  about  was  wildness, 
And  all  the  land  was  snow. 

My  life  had  pined  in  sadness, 
M  y  heart  nigh  turned  to  stone, 

Till  memory  was  madness 
And  sorrow  clove  the  bone ! 

Then  turned  I  toward  the  lilies, 
Whose  roots  were  dipped  in  sand, 

Whose  tendrils  grasped  butrocklets. 
While  yet  their  dreams  were  grand 

I  fed  their  rocks  with  water 
As  time  had  fed  me  tears; 

I  dipped  their  sands  in  moisture 
As  grief  had  dipped  my  years ; 

And  slowly  from  the  shadows 
There  grew  a  bloom  of  Youth, 

A  fragrance  and  a  floweret ; 
—It  was  the  Dream  of  Truth ! 

It  was  The  Bulb  of  Beauty 

—That  rose  through  grief  and  fall! 
It  was  the  Faith  in  Duty, 
That  conquered— all  in  all ! 


Buddha  Bell. 

3  AM  the  "Buddha  Bell" 
That  was  born  of  a  song  and  a  sigh. 
My  strokes  the  long  ages  tell 
As  the  children  of  men  go  by. 

I  breathe  in  the  air  and  the  sky, 
My  notes  are  the  centuries  roll, 

I  bend  to  the  low  and  the  high, 
And  hearken  to  Nature's  soul  ! 

I  am  the  "Buddha  Bell"  ! 

My  heart  is  of  mellow  bronze ; 
My  old  worn  sides  reflect 

Her  flowers  and  leaves  and  fronds ; 

And  I  glance  to  her  waters  below, 

And  gaze  on  her  stars  afar, 
While  my  vibrant  chords  outflow 

Without  a  single  jar. 

I  am  the  "Buddha  Bell"— 
With  deep  voice  soft  and  low ; 

I  know  Life's  mystic  spell, 
Her  tones  as  they  ebb  and  flow. 

Her  choirs  of  Heaven  and  Hell, 
Her  anthems  of  earth  and  of  air, 

Are  caught  in  my  bosom's  swell 
And  rung  to  Eternal  Prayer  ! 


Co  a  Japanese  nocturne 

[Of  Birdlets  Asleep  in  the  Full  Moon.] 


O     HE  night  is  still—  the  willows  droop, 
*JL    The  film  threads  tangle  all  the  sky, 

The  cloudlets  swim  through  curl  and  loop, 
The  twilight  sounds  go  murmuring  by. 

Wee  bir  diets,  on  the  bending  bough, 
Fall  nodding  low,  with  breast  to  breast  ; 

And  he  who  has  not  sung  enough 
He  is  the  Poet  of  the  rest. 

For  lo  !  the  full  moon  rolling  up 
Will  not  awake  them  while  they  sleep. 

She  pours  for  them  Nepenthe's  cup 
And  doth  her  tender  fledglings  keep. 

Ah,  Mother  God,  across  whose  breast 
By  night  or  day  the  planets  roll, 

Keep  us,  Thy  fledglings,  safe  at  rest, 
And  be  the  moonlight  of  our  soul  ! 


Tire  Tlie$. 

r~<  AINT,  mystic  fireflies,  that  glow 
^    Along  our  path,  as  home  we  go, 
When  twilight  shadows  gently  fall 
\nd  vesper  bells  begin  to  call. 


Ye  are  the  spirits  of  the  plane 
That  light  our  fond  hearts  home  again ; 
Ye  are  the  twinkling  lamps  of  bliss 
That  toss  to  us  the  hearth's  bright  kiss. 


Thy  fairy  torches  seem  to  be 
The  Pleiads  of  life's  mystery! 
They  are  God's  constellations  low, 
That  stoop  to  help  the  humble  grow. 

What  would  our  summer  evenings  be 
Without  thy  matchless  witchery  ? 
Sweet  falling  stars!    Ye  bring  us  Heaven 
('lose  down  to  Earth  to  make  it  Eden  ! 


40 


Rest. 

sweet  when  winds  and  waves  awake 
•_/   ^     And  evening  lamps  burn  low, 

To  wile  an  hour  upon  the  lake 
And  with  my  skiff  to  row. 

To  hear  the  quail  within  the  brake, 

The  piping  snipe  by  shore, 
The  wild  duck  fluttering  from  the  lake, 

The  mountain's  rich  encore ! 

O  for  the  breath  of  breezes  sweet— 

The  frosty  air  and  chill 
Descending  on  the  summer  heat 

With  evening's  whip-po'will ! 

The  low  stars  blink  out,  one  by  one ; 

Slow  grows  the  evening  hour ; 
'Till  from  the  embraces  of  the  sun 

Night  rests  in  all  her  power! 


41 


Stars  of  midsummer 

/f  |EEP,  soft  and  rich  the  blue  of  night 
g^y  Settles  o'er  all  the  landscape  wild ; 
The  woods  are  still,  the  eve  is  light, 

And  I  am  hushed— as  Nature's  child. 

I  dread  no  care,  sourcie,  nor  pain, 
But  fix  Tay  heart,  and  trust  in  God. 

The  year  has  ripened  all  my  grain, 
And  brought  to  bloom  my  golden  rod. 

Hush,  now,  my  soul,  in  Nature's  arms,    . 

New  born,  within,  from  doubt  and  care ; 
From  all  the  vain  world's  false  alarms; 

They  fright  not  where  God's  angels  are! 

Dark  clouds  above— like  clouds  within— 

Are  rift  by  silent,  silvery  bars ; 
And  over  all  Earth's  load  of  sin 

1  watch  the  deep  set  summer  stars! 


Orpbeus. 

3    HEARD  a  blythe  bird  sing,  at  break  of  day, 
A  strange  sweet  song; 
So  silver  clear— a  woodland  roundelay— 
And  long! 

It  "seemed  a  bird" — had  I  not  better  say? 

For  from  my  dream  I  woke ; 
And  while,  all  wondering,  on  my  couch  I  lay, 

A  seraph  spoke 

And  said,  with  sweetness  that  no  mortal  kens, 

"Tls  Nature's  voice! 
She  speaks  whenever  willing  souls  attends, 

Rejoice! 

She  watches  for  the  open  heart, 

And  falls 
Into  the  fevered  pulse ;  Her  art 

Enthralls ! 

In  every  glade  thou  hearest  Orpheus  play ; 

In  every  flower  there  lurks  an  angel  song; 
In  every  gem  there  hides  a  heavenly  lay; 

And  Time,  the  choir,  shall  but  the   notes    pro  - 
long!" 


Me**. 

('•There  are,  as  it  were,  so  many  kinds   of   voices."- 
Bible.) 


IHOU  sayest  "Silence  golden"-Why  so  bold, 
When  evening  echoes,  low,  though  tipped  with 
daintiest  feet, 

Still  whisper  back  to  whisper,  with  fond  murmurs  old. 
And  kiss  the  gentle  zephyrs.in  a  cadence  sweet; 
Still  lightly  trip  in  music  over  moor  and  wold, 
And    breath    the»«f  evening  "Good  night"  to   the 
slumbering  fold? 

Nay,  surely,  say  not  so— since  from  Creation's  dawn 
The  morning  stars  rang  out  their  song  of  rapturous 

glee; 
When  o'er  the  azure  depths  rode  forth  the  gladsome 

morn, 

And  angel  choirs  took  up  the  wonderous  symphony! 
Then  sister  Pleiadfsang,  as  earth  wheeled  into  line 
And  hailed  the  newborn's   health,   in    quaffs   of 
heavenly  wine. 

Thou  canst  not  so— since  John  on  sacred  Patmos  slept 
And  saw  the  Heavenly  Hosts  disclosed    in    dazzling 

white 

Each,  with  a  harp  and  song,  out  of  the  darkness  lept, 
And  struck  the  chords  of  fire  with  notes  of   solemn 

might. 

Then  Christ  Himself,  grand  leader  of  the  choir 
Moved  o'er   the   worlds    His   wand,  and  did  the 
strains  inspire. 

44 


Nay  verily!    While  earth    rolls    'round   on    spinning 

wheel. 

And  all  the  fragrant  grass,  like  axle,  seems  to  burr ; 
While  there  are  lips  to  speak,  and  hearts  to  throb  and 

feel, 
Thou  canst  not  still  the  accents  of   Dame   Nature's 

whirr ; 
So  long  as  bright  waves  break,  and  birds  are  on  the 

wing, 

And  rivulets  rush,  and  rills  do  ripple  to  the  sea, 
Thou  canst  not  quench  Her  voice,  nor  bid  her  cease  to 

sing, 

Nor— impious  cry,  "the  word  of  action  should  not 
be!" 


Death  and  decay,  with  clammy  hand  and  cold. 
Or  he — dull,  craven  soul — who  doth  his  mission  shirk. 
May  love  the  silence  blank  of  Chaos  drear  and  old, 
"For  the  night  cometh,"  fast,   "when  man  may  no 

more  work !" 

Till  then,  give  me  the  song  that  sings  in  every  bough  ; 
The  insect,  bird  and  beast,  that  wake  the  echoing  hill ; 
The  kiss  of  maid  and  child  that  flutters  to  my  brow  ; 
The  linnet,  lark  and  thrush,  the  evening  whippoorwill ! 
Strike  high  the  Harp  of  Life!  nor  run  the  heart's 

wine  low 
Till  Ocean's  depths  are  dry  and  Time  itself  is  still ! 


Great  fiearted 

["God  giveth  not  His  Spirit  by  measure"— but  ''pressed 

down  running  over." 
"The  generous  soul  shall  be  made  fat."  Bible.] 

pRIEND,  doest  thou  know  those  words— 

Q)[    Rich  as  are  all  the  Lords- 
Vast  like  some  swelling  river, 
Or  some  Aladdin  treasure 
Scorning  all  bound  and  measure? 

God  loves  a  wholesouled  giver  ! 

Seest  thou  the  full  moon  merge 

Into  the  ocean's  surge; 

Rush  into  every  rill 
Till  the  vast  inlands  fill  ? 
—Wild  flag  and  wild  cress  thrill! 

God  loves  a  greatheart,  giver. 

Knowest  thou  the  wild  dove's  nest 
And  the  down,  torn  from  her  breast 

When  herweelings  shiver? 

From  her  heart's  blood  ta'en 

Though  she  fall  slain  ! 
God  loves  a  fondheart,  giver. 

Hark!    Hast  thou  heard  that  song 
Larks  pour  when  springs  are  young 

Till  the  full  woods  quiver  ? 

"Joy  to  the  world  again  ! 

Good  will  to  loving  men  I' 
God  loves  a  cheerful  giver ! 


Caster  -  Resurgit 

(D\r  ARK!    'Tis  a  trump  I  hear! 
^y   I          "Across  the  moorlands  clear- 
Above  the  mountains  bold— 
So  wondrous  new,  -yet  old! 

'The  Year !    The  glad  New  Year !' 

Loved  hearts,  long  gone  to  God, 

That  sleep  beneath  the  sod, 
Do  ye  in  victory  sing 

When  through  the  welkin  ring 

Those  voices,  "Spring!    'Tis  Spring"? 

O  faithful  spirits  fair 

That  to  the  world  declare 

Thy  mystic  message  long ; 
Then  join  the  heavenly  song 

Within  the  upper  air! 

Yes !  clear  we  hear  again 

Thy  rapturous  cry  to  men ; 
"Death  is  destroyed,  and  hell! 

Behold  the  buds  that  swell- 
Ideals  from  God's  ken!" 

They  cannot  die  —  they  live! 

O'er  all  things  they  survive ! 

They  shall  not  fail,  nor  fear; 
They  usher  in  the  year ; 

And  lo!  he  rocks  they  rive! 


47 


Spring  Bugles. 

*  LJCRY !    A  wood-note  from  a  bough ! 
o/JL    A  swegt  voice  o'er  the  valley  hurled ! 
A  strange,  strong  fragrance  breaking  through 

With  murm'rings  of  the  under-world. 


The  gurgling  rush  in  hidden  nooks, 
The  mystic  something  in  the  air; 

The  melting  snow,  the  sap,  the  brooks, 
The  peeping  verdure  everywhere. 


()  blessed  Life,  again  renewed! 

O  tender  Voice  — without  — within  ! 
O  sunny  land  — though  tear  bedewed  ; 

Dear  Nature,  purified  from  sin ! 


Ah  me!  methinks  as  shadows  fade, 
That  I  am  Hope,  that  spreads  her  wing. 

Awake  sad  heart,  be  undismayed  : 
It  is  the  Spring!  the  Spring!  the  Spring! 


tf 


Spring  Snow. 

3T  Was  not  cold— the  soft  spring  snow— 
And,  open  wide,  I  threw  my  gates. 
With  windows  back,  and  face  aglow, 

I  cried  aloud:    "See  !    March  abates." 

The  spring  had  come,  the  birds  were  here, 
The  winter  fled,  I  feared  no  cold ; 

-When  suddenly,  from  out  the  clear, 

There  fell  these  flakes  o'er  moor  and  wold 

The  trees  were  bending  'neath  their  load 
The  birds  flew  fluttering  'neath  the  pines; 

And  far  and  wide  a  hustling  goad 

Drove  everything  before  the  winds  ! 

But  see  !    The  sun  has  come  again ; 

The  eves  are  rippling  with  fresh  rills ; 
The  snow  is  soft  and  warm  as  rain ; 

The  air  is  full  of  birdlet  trills  ! 

*  *  * 

"Tis  so  my  Love  draws  back  her  lips, 
To  watch  my  startled  eyes  grow  sad. 

She's  mischief— to  her  finger  tips  ! 

She  loves  to  tease— then  kiss  me  glad  ! 


march  Breezes. 

»  (Vow,  stirring  in  the  womb  of  Life, 
Q)  \     Great  Pan  enkindles  all  his  fires  ! 
His  spirit  flames  to  woo  his  wife, 
And  all  the  winds  are  his  desires! 


Bright  Nature  hears  his  manly  call; 

She  robes  herself  in  silvern  green ; 
Unbinds  her  locks— lets  girdles  fall, 

Till  her  fair  maidenhood  is  seen  ! 

Then  sparkling  o'er  the  bursting  brooks, 
She  glances  at  him,  wild  and  free; 

While,  from  the  mountain  tops,  his  looks 
Of  rapture  tell  of  joys  to  be  ! 

And  all  the  rills  begin  to  rush  ! 

And  all  the  saps  begin  to  spring  ! 
And  in  the  woodland's  deepest  hush 

He  woes  her  with  his  wedding  ring  ! 


my  flrtist  Palette. 

3'VE  A  PALETTE  that  can  glow 
With  the  glories  of  the  sun, 
Flower  and  fruit  and  bright  rainbow- 
Yellow,  blue  and  vermillion; 
Green  and  gold  and  carmine  red 

Dripping  with  the  blood  of  wine : 
Orange,  azure,  olive,  rose, 
Silver  sheen— this  placque  of  mine. 


When  I  slip  it  o'er  my  thumb, 
And  the  oil  has  filled  the  cup, 

Life's  no  longer  stale  nor  dumb; 
Lo!  the  sprites  that  lick  it  up. 

Fairies,  sylphs,  and  seashells  gay, 
Waves  and  sands  and  tides  that  run ; 

Birds  and  beasts  and  youths  at  play ; 

Twilight  flames  when  day  is  done. 

See  the  rich  bituminous  lakes, 
Where  the  night  glow  slumbers  deep ; 

How  the  pearl-hue  o'er  it  breaks 
When  the  young  moon  wakes  its  sleep 


Then  the  crinkling  threads  of  tire 
Through  the  dark,  cold  ultramarine. 

Stir  my  heart  with  strange  desire, 
Like  some  nymph  in  elfland  green. 


Now  I  see  the  years  unrolled, 

Since  the  morning  star  was  set, 
When  its  point  of  liquid  gold 

Lit  the  land,  by  bright  dews  wet ; 
And,  from  out  eternal  space, 

Poured  the  tide  of  ceaseless  Form ; 
All  the  wealth  of  Beauty's  race, 

Up  to  day-god,  from  the  worm. 


Oh,  the  splendors  of  the  sky, 

And  the  scenes  that  o'er  it  pass; 
And  the  phantoms  streaming  by 

In  the  shadows  of  the  grass! 
Oh,  the  treasures  of  the  eye, 

And  the  dreams  within  the  soul ! 
So  we  thank  Thee,  Lord  on  High, 

For  Thy  wealth  of  Nature  whole. 


52 


Ulbip-po'-wilL 

^T  HE  cool,  sweet  Spring  has  come  again, 
-L     And  farmers  fling  their  golden  grain ; 
Then  as  the  bright  days  linger  long, 
Out  from  the  woods  there  bursts  this  song, 
Which  seems  my  very  soul  to  thrill— 
"  Work-with-a-will !     Work-with-a-will !" 

The  snow  and  frosts  are  fled  apace, 
And  New  Year  smiles  with  kindly  face. 
Strong  Youth  discards  all  drowsy  sleep, 
And  driving  plowshare  fast  and  deep, 
He  loves  thy  hail  across  the  hill — 
"Work-with-a-will !    Work-with-a-will !" 

It  stirs  his  heart  with  Hope's  allure. 
And  pledges  blessings  sweet  and  sure, 
Of  home,  and  love,  and  life,  and  wealth. 
And,  best  of  all,  sweet,  holy  health  ; 
And  far  into  the  twilight  still, 
It  seems  the  whole  round  earth  to  fill — 
"Work-with-a-will !     Work-with-a-will !' ' 

Brave  bird,  they  have  belied  thy  strain 
That  changed  it  to  some  sad  complain. 
Thy  bosom  could  not  bear  that  smart. 
But  calls  amain  from  hero  heart- 
Its  clarion  floods  the  rich  campaign 
With  triumph  and  with  courage  plain— 
"Work-with-a-will !     Work-with-a-will !" 


Robin  fled. 

J     AuT  in  the  cherry  tree,  singing  and  wooing, 
Vl/     Jolly  Red  Robin  sits,  billing  and  cooing: 

"Speak  quick  Love !  quick !  quick  Love ! 

Cheerily!  cheerily!  merrily!  merrily!" 

Bounding  and  bubbling,  the  rollicking  lover 
Dashes  down  deep  in  the  daisies  and  clover: 

"Merriwig!  perriwig!  fiip-flap-fling-a-jig! 

Come  along!  sing  a  song!  Spring  will  be  over! 

"Precious  dear,  I  am  here,  down  in  this  hollow; 
Here's  a  worm!  watch  it  squirm!    Why  don't  yon 
follow  ? 

Slim  and  slick!  pick  it  quick!  all  for  you,  Dearie! 

Make  haste!  take  a  taste!  here's  to  you,  Cheerie!" 

Now  in  flight,  fast  as  light,  diving  and  rounding. 
Branches  break,  babies  wake,  groves  all  resounding. 
Back  to  the  cherry  tree— that's  where  he's  going- 
Rich  and  strong,  still  his  song  merrily  flowing : 

"Red  ripe !  such  a  sight !  see  the  bright  blood  start ! 

Such  juice!  this  its  use!  Drink  deep,  Sweetheart!" 

Up  in  the  tipmost  bough,  sitting  above  her, 
Robin,  the  jolly  bird,  sings,  a  true  lover ; 
Rollick  and  frolic,  and  frisk  under  cover: 
Just  wed,  bosom  red— brimming  all  over! 


Beauty  or  Cove. 

AIR  Beauty,  wand'ring  by  a  crystal  spring. 
Did  find  Adonis  bathing  in  its  stream; 
Her  loveliness  so  rare,  entranced  his  heart 

to  sing, 
And  all  his  ravished  fancies  set  adream; 

Then  stepped  she  back,  so  lightly,  in  amaze ; 
It  left  his  wondering  spirit  all  adaze. 

Upsang  a  turtle  dove  with  bosom  white, 

From  out  a  bough,  above  her  gentle  head : 
"Fair  Beauty,  thou  art  such  an  heavenly  sight 
That  thou  mayest  smite  my  young  Adonis  dead ! 
It  were  not  well  that  thou  so  fair  shouldst  be 
Unless  thy  heart  can  feel  Love's  charity. 

"What  were  the  riches  of  the  Orient  wide, 

Or  all  the  pearls  that  revel  in  the  sea, 
If  they  about  a  proud,  cold  heart  abide, 
As  if  to  rose  there  should  no  fragrance  be  ? 
As  though  fair  hand  took  down  a  golden  lyre 
Yet  never  let  warm  heart  its  strain  inspire." 

Then  Beauty  looked  again,  with  gentler  eyes, 

And  lo!  Adonis  woke  from  out  his  swoon. 
So  threaded  they  that  Dance  of  Tender  Sighs 
Where  melts  the  magic  of  the  harvest  moon. 
So  on  her  gentle  bosom  slept  his  heart, 
Nor  evermore  (say  shepherds)  will  they  part. 


maidenhood. 

A  V  /  HY  doth  one  love  to  look  in  fond  and  pretty 

V  V       eyes, 

Deep,  rich  and  kind,  of  fair  and  witchy  maiden  ? 
Why  doth  the  heart's  flame  •burn  and  beat  in  sighs 
All  to  dance  a  measure  with  a  playful  hoyden  ? 

Sure,  I  know  full  well— but  the  secret  would  not  tell  ! 
Should  you  wish  to  know,  go  wander  by  the  seashore, 
(father  up  the  purest,  the  pearliest  blushing  shell, 
Hold  it  to  your  ear,  and  hearken  to  the  sea  roar  ! 

There,  within  its  heart,  the  ages  lie  in  wait  ! 

All  the  mystic  dreams  that  man  could  ever  sigh  for; 

All  the  dazzling  splendor  that  pours  through  Heaven's 

gate ; 
All  the  music,  sweet,  that  seraph  harps  draw  nigh  for! 

Put  your  cheek  up  close  and  listen  to  its  chords ; 
Press  your  lips  down  light  to  kiss  its  pink-and-white- 

ness; 

Could  you  paint  it  now,  or  catch  it  up  in  words  ? 
If  you  could — you  couldn't  tell  a  maiden's  light  and 

brightness  ! 

Droop  upon  my  arm,  O  dainty  dimpled  face! 
Faint  upon  my  form,  fair  lily  in  thy  splendor! 
All  the  tongues  of  Time  could  never  tell  thy  grace, 
Nor  the  marble's  blush  thy  matchless  beauty  render! 


Her  Challenge. 


*\  V  /HO  will  sing  a  maiden's  grace? 
»  V    \vho  will  paint  for  me  her  face? 
Whence  has  come  her  witchery? 
Whither  wends  her  mystery? 


Who  those  atoms  wove  together 
Out  of  winds  of  every  weather- 
Breeze  of  spring  and  summer's  passion, 
Autumn's  swoon,  and  winter's  fashion 
When  against  the  purest  snow 
Reddest  berries  gleam  and  glow? 

Who  has  drawn  such  seraph  lines 
In  her  limbs— like  marble  vines? 
Who  has  dimpled  in  her  cheek 
Witcheries  so  mischief-meek  ? 
Who  has  painted  in  her  eyes 
Nocturne  dreams  of  Paradise? 


57 


Who  has  hidden  in  her  breast 
Twitterings  of  the  songbird's  nest  7 
What  the  mystic  tide  that  swells 
All  her  bosom's  dales  and  dells, 
Quivering  o'er  the  rosy  nipples 
With  its  laughter  and  its  ripples? 
Who  has  carved  her  rounded  thighs 
Into  madness,  longings,  sighs? 


Who  has  filled  her  cradled  womb 
With  Life's  magic  sunlit  gloom? 
Who  has  thrilled  her  mellow  heart 
With  its  rapture  and  its  smart  ? 
Who  has  crowned  her  holy  head 
With  the  living  and  the  dead  ? 


Tell  me  this — and  you  may  tell 
Eden's  bowers  of  Asphodel ! 


Sweet  Briar. 

WEET  BRIAR!   Wild  Rose!  all  alone  and  shy, 
Didst  thou  dream  that  I,  of  all,  'ere  could 
—    *  /  pass  thee  by  ? 

Modest,  fair  and  fragrant,  in  the  wildwood  shade, 
Where  the  Lord  once  hid  thee,  fairest  flower  he  made. 

Ah !  thy  witchy  coyness  is  but  woodland  sleep 
By  thy  dewy  shyness  made  more  rich  and  deep; 
In  the  bosky  shadows  of  thy  green  retreat, 
Safe  thy  spirit  slumbers  till  thy  Prince  it  greet. 

Tender  pearl  of  flowers!  how  thy  heart  I  know! 
Though  thy  petals  quirer  still,  with  love  aglow; 
Though  thou  flutter,  trembling,  far  into  thy  nest, 
I  have  found  and  bound  thee  safe  upon  my  breast. 

Shall  I  fear  thy  thorns,  Love  ?    Gentle  Eglantine ! 
They  were  born,  perchance,  of  dread  thou  might  not 

be  mine. 

Now  no  foe  shall  harm  thee,  evermore  at  peace, 
Fond  and  fragrant  Sweet  Briar,  let  thy  exile  cease. 


5'J 


flll  Cbrec. 

»  /JSONG  of  love  fills  all  the  glades, 
oJ  J_       And  bird-nests  in  the  tree ; 

All  meadow  lights  and  forest  shades ; 
Then  why  not— me  ? 

The  flowers  in  love  their  heads  recline, 

And  drink  it  like  the  dew, 
From  morning's  blush  to  eve's  decline; 

Then  why  not— you  ? 

God  floods  all  space,  from  farthest  star, 

With  Love's  great  troth ; 
It  fllleth  Heaven,  to  where  we  are; 

Then  why  not— both  ? 

He  says  He  sends  Love's  angel  out 
To  thrill  where'er  we  be; 

He  fills  her  heart  without  a  doubt- 
Why  not— all  three? 


Southern  nightingales. 

ALL  the  strains  of  music 

They  trill  who  flood  with  song 
The  summer  days  till  evening, 
Or  midnights  rich  and  long, 

There  is  no  bird  so  plaintive, 

Nor  yet  so  wild  and  gay, 
As  Southern  mocking-bird,  so  sweet 
When  moons  are  up— they  say. 


My  heart  knows  well  that  music, 

I've  dreamed  it— 0  so  long! 
I  heard  it  in  my  slumbers, 
It  filled  my  soul  with  song! 

'Twas  crushed— 'twas  killed— within  me 

By  northern  cage  and  bars! 

But  still  'tis  in  my  moonlight! 

-'Tis  singing  in  my  stars ! 


t'l 


CDc  full  moon  and  the  Bird. 

p^ 

*  /  PON  my  evening  porch  when  south  winds  sigh 

and  fan, 

'Mid  honeysuckle  vines,  I  watch  the  full  moon  rise; 
Fair  Nature's  great  gold  heart— whose  veins  bright 

liquid  ran 

With  love  and  life  and  flame,  when  first  she  spanned 
the  skies  ! 

'Ah  me— what  molten  tide,  with  Passion's  bliss 

aglow, 

That  swims  and  sways  and  throbs  in  Love's  deep 
undertow  ! 

My  heart  toward  her  doth  melt,  whose  fingers  twine 

my  hand 

With  quiet  pressures  kind— yet  need  we  never  speak  i 
Forth  from  my  latticed  shade,  our  chorister  so  grand 
—Our  mockingbird— doth  pour,  pure  from  his  bub 
bling  beak, 

A  strain  so  rich  and  free— so  ecstasy  inspired- 
Each  heart  has  told  its  tale,  and  heard  what  it 
desired. 

Full  well  the  nightfays  know,  with  woodlore  wise  and 

wild, 

The  secret  these  two  tell— The  Fullmoon  and  the  Bird ! 
The  moon's  my  own  full  heart,  by  Love's  sweet  ways 

beguiled. 

The  "Bird"— ah,  that's  my  Bride— whose  song  of  Life 
I   heard; 

Soft,  low  and  deep,  indeed  !  then  bursting  light 

with  joys 

—Bright,  tripping,  rippling,  rich— her  witchery 
employs. 


Cove's  Waiting. 


Y  Love  and  I  are  watching 
(2/  A  \*)ur  altar  fires  glow ;   . 
Dear  missals  slow  consuming, 
The  embers  burning  low. 

Their  sacred  ashes  whiten 
And  crumble  into  dust, 

Love's  passions  droop  and  lighten 
Because  she  says  "they  must." 

Fond  fingers  sad  relaxing, 

Fond  sighs  are  hushed  asleep; 

Her  tender  laws  exacting 

Their  toll  of  patience  reap  ! 

She  will  not  let  me  clasp  her, 
Nor  yet  the  wedding  come ! 

She's  whispered:    "Love,  hereafter! 
—And  glided  from  the  room! 


Cittic  Cope  Cries. 

Y^plTTLE  Love  cries 
i     With  his  fingers  in  his  eyes  ! 

—Wet  his  hands! 

See  he  stands 
At  thy  garden  gate. 
Dost  thou  make  him  wait  ? 

Little  Love  implores— 
See  his  heart's  rich  stores! 

Wond'rous  things, 

That  he  brings ; 
Boundless  treasures  rare! 
Why  make  him  despair? 

Little  Love  pines- 
See — his  courage  now  declines ! 
How  he  stoops 
And  his  head  droops. 
Naught  he  further  sings 
Under  his  fallen  wings! 

Little  Love  dies ! 

Canst  thou  drown  his  cries? 
O  cold  hard  heart 
Slain  is  he  by  thy  dart ! 

O  Fair  Maid,  without  ruth, 

Wake  to  his  Passion's  truth  ! 


Sparkles. 

» TyV  Y  Love  and  I  are  "sparking" 
(D/  ^*  \        Amid  the  garden  flowers, 
To  happy  mischiefs  hearking— 
So  gay  the  sunlit  hours  ! 

O  Life,  that  made  the  zephyrs 
So  wanton  and  so  sweet, 

The  ewe  lambs  and  the  heifers 
So  light  of  playful  feet ; 

The  birds  so  full  of  love  song. 

The  butterflies  of  glow ; 
The  roses  blush,  the  day  long, 

With  Passion— Thou  dost  know  ! 

Ah!  Maker  of  Life's  longings, 
Hast  Thou  a  playful  Heart  ? 

And  dost  Thou  joy  in  joining 
Two  lovers  long  apart  ? 


•15 


Gay  or 

3  ASKED  her :  "In  Love  is  Life  playful  ? 
Or  is  it  profound  (as  to  me)  ? 
—The  foam  with  the  sunlight  of  day,  full? 
Or  deep  like  the  depths  of  the  sea? 

She  smiled  as  she  answered  me  slowly, 
With  voice  that  was  tender  and  low, 

With  deep  eyes  so  vast  and  so  holy, 

"If  you  feel  it— I  think  you  will  know.' 

Then  I  looked  in  my  heart  and  I  found  it ! 

At  morn  it  was  blithe  like  the  light ; 
But  at  evening  when  twilight  surrounds  it 

'Tis  richer  and  deeper  than  night ! 


Che  Covering  of  Dreams. 

A  V  /HEN  evening  light  descends  upon  the  day 
V  V       And  home  these  gentle  lovers  take  their  way. 

Somehow,  to  him,  all  hallowed  o'er  she  seems 
With  heavenly  light !    He  covers  her  with  dreams ! 

Her  step  to  him  is  lighter  than  a  fawn's; 

Her  eyes  more  limpid  than  a  liquid  lake; 
Around  her  brow  an  aureole,  like  the  dawn's; 

And,  from  her  lips,  the  words  in  music  break! 

He  steals  his  arm  but  shyly  to  her  waist, 
So  like  a  goddess  rare  and  fair  she  seems! 

Her  kiss  he  covets,  but  he  dare  not  take : 
His  heart's  a  worship— covering  her  with  dreams! 

What  will  she  do !    Will  she  divine  his  face 
And  read  her  glory  in  his  trembling  heart? 

Will  she  requite  his  love  with  equal  grace, 
Or  chide  and  chill  him— till  they  drift  apart? 


Code's  Wedding  King. 

COME,  Love,  to  the  window 
And  watch  the  new  moon  fill! 
'Tis  like  a  dewdrop  falling 
That  seraph  hands  distill! 

'Tis  just  a  ring  of  silver 

With  just  a  drop  of  gold, 
That's  fallen  from  God's  finger ; 

And  Love  its  margins  hold ! 

It  is  our  marriage  symbol 
—He  knows  how  deep  we  love! 

Our  names  are  "called"  in  Heaven 
—We're  "wedded"  up  above! 


fier  Secret, 

OU  think  I  do  not  know  my  love 

That  I  so  wayward  glance  and  glide 
Within  the  maze  of  whirlwind  dance, 
And  outwardly  my  feelings  hide? 

You  think  I  have  no  throbbing  heart 
That  stills  itself  lest  others  see, 

When  fingers  touch  and  fingers  part, 
And  his  dear  face  comes  round  to  me? 

I  know  his  love  in  every  step, 

The  passion  yearning  through  his  eyes; 
The  rich  pulse  burning  to  his  lip, 

Which  woos  me  with  its  warm  surprise. 

I  feel  the  quiver  through  his  frame, 
The  strong  knots  in  his  tangled  hair, 

The  hunger  that  he  cannot  name, 
The  tense  look  of  his  fond  despair. 

It  is  not  true  that  "Love  is  blind" ! 

My  pulses  surge  beneath  his  glow ; 
My  heart  to  him  is  melting  kind, 

But  I'll  not  let  the  cold  world  know. 

Wait  till  the  vain  have  fled  and  gone, 

The  throbbing  music  sunk  to  rest ; 
Wait  till  he  comes  for  me  alone 
And  gathers  me  within  his  breast ; 

Wait  till  the  whirl  has  passed  away, 
Then  in  the  moonlight  rich  and  still 

To  him  I'll  give  my  love  away, 
And  he  shall  have  his  true  heart's  fill! 


Our  Wedding  fiour. 

LOVE!    The  south  wind  sighs 

Our  wedding  sweet. 
Fond  hearts  must  blend 

And  passions  pure  must  meet. 
Each  warm  pulse  burns  like  wine 

Within  our  frames; 
One  are  our  souls,  our  beings, 

And  our  names. 


One  living  tide  unites  our  lives 
For  aye ! 

Bright  angel  of  my  soul, 
So  long  away 

Where  thou  hast  waited  till 
The  heavenly  call 

Has  made  us  welcome  to  give- 
Take— keep— all  ! 

This  is  the  precious  gift 

Of  life  and  power 
We  share  now  with  each  other, 

Every  hour! 
Eternal  rapture  sheds  its  peace 

Profound 
Through  all  our  being's  compass ; 

Love  is  crowned! 


One  Instant. 

'LEDGE  me  no  troth  in  cold  water ! 

Quaff  me  the  bright  wine  that  cheers! 
Better  alive  for  one  evening, 

Than  dead  for  a  decade  of  years'. 

Say  but  one  word,  that  you  love  me ; 

One  that  shall  banish  all  fears! 
Best  be  a  bird  for  one  morning, 

Than  worm  for  a  cycle  of  years. 

Grant  me  one  kiss,  though  it  kill  me, 
—One  that  shall  brighten  all  tears! 

Best  be  complete— till  Life  fill  thee 

Than  void  for  a  thousand  of  years ! 

Breathe  through  my  being  one  poem! 

Make  me  but  one  of  God's  seers! 
Best  be  a  god  for  a  moment 

Than  mouse  for  a  million  of  years! 

Thrill  through  my  spirit  one  rapture 

Music  eternity  hears! 
Best  be  Divine— for  one  instant  — 

Than  mortal  ten  billion  of  years! 


71 


Passion. 


n  T  is  the  hour  of  Twilight 

QJ  When  Love  is  on  the  wing! 

And  all  the  zephyrs  calling, 

And  all  the  birdlets  sing! 

My  Love  and  I  are  watching 
The  heavenly  planets  burn, 
And  each  a  kiss  is  stealing, 
And  begs  one  is  return! 


The  "Great  Bear"  tramps  his  circle 

Enchained  about  "The  Pole," 

And  I'm  her  "dear  gruff  tyrant" 

(Because  I'm  hunger-whole! 

Because  I  spare  no  moment, 
Nor  leave  unkissed  one  spot- 
So  tight  my  strong  arms  bind  her, 
Upon  my  heart  so  hot.) 


The  Pleiads  dance  and  sparkle 
Like  swarms  of  fireflies ; 
They  match  the  twinkling  mischiefs 
That  swim  within  her  eyes! 


72 


Arcturus  in  his  glory 
Has  bent  his  graceful  bow; 
Her  eyelids  tell  the  story 
She  lightly  lets  me  know! 


I  think  that  Cupid's  arrow 

Is  strained  across  that  string, 

For  darts  shoot  through  my  marrow 

—I  feel  her  glances  fling! 

And  up  there  Venus  watching 
Gleams  down  with  heaving  breast ; 
Her  sparks  and  flames  are  catching 
And  give  our  hearts  no  rest! 


Orion  has  a  falchion 

Upon  his  glorious  groins ! 

My  Love— an  angel's  cradle 

Rocked  in  her  pretty  loins ! 

What  shall  I  do  for  sighing 
When  Heaven  rebukes  my  fear? 
I'll  wed  my  Love  by  starlight— 
This  is  the  Time  of  year! 


Code's  Canticle. 

!T  WAS  my  Love's  sweet  spirit, 
I  heard  at  midnight  call ; 
He  came  on  wings  of  longing, 
I  gave  him  all  my  all! 

The  angels  fair  from  heaven, 
They  loaned  him  their  bright  wings, 

And  so  he  reached  my  bosom, 
And  all  my  being  sings. 

Now  tell  me,  maidens  tender. 

Did  ye  not  hear  him  come  ? 
He  clasped  my  form  so  slender, 

He  dwelt  within  my  room. 

Ah,  vain  and  foolish  virgins! 

Your  lamps  of  life  are  dry; 
Your  chalice  dark  is  empty 

When  Love  and  Life  draw  nigh ! 

But  he  and  I  are  spirits, 
And  heaven  is  here  below! 

And  all  the  seraphs  know  it, 
And  Love  and  I  do  know! 


74 


Che  Woodland  mound. 

3     KNOW  a  fount  of  joy  and  pureness  unalloyed, 
A  deep  and  quiet  spring,  most  green  and  witch 
ing  fair, 
Where  naiad  forms  enweave  their  gold  locks,  bright 

deployed, 

And  drip  the  fragrant  waters  through  their  shining: 
hair. 

There  sleeps  the  queen  of  fays  — the  tender,  gracious 

sylph 
Who  binds  within  her  tress  my  wandering  moods  and 

sighs; 

There  gather  all  the  hosts  of  gentle  dreams ;  and  elfs 
That  guide  the  kindled  fancy  through  the  night's  dis 
guise. 

The  moon  shines  on  that  nook,  the  nightingale  is  there , 
Wherein  I  met  my  love,  so  winsome,  pure  and  fair. 

She  is  the  Cynthia  of  that  woodland  glen. 
And  all  its  matchless  lore  is  written  on  her  heart. 
She  hath  wild  Orpheus'  lyre,  Apollo's  bow  and  pen ; 
She  hath  her  huntress  hounds,  her  nereids  and  her 
dart. 


75 


Alas!  one  inoon,  whileome,  she  sped  an  arrow  keen, 
As  I  Endymion  pale,  gan  walking  in  her  glade; 
I  saw  her  gartered  grace,  her  gathered  kirtle's  sheen, 
And  felt  through  every  nerve  the  wound  her  shaft  had 

made. 

One  tide  of  glory  fell,  from  brow  to  silvern  shoon ; 
What  could  I  do  but  spring  to  her  fair  feet  and  swoon? 

Then  bade  she  all  her  maids  make  bower  for  me  to  lie, 
And  with  her  woodland  simples  salved  the  dart's  red 

tide. 

There  at  my  head  she  sat,  and  garnered  up  each  sigh, 
And  wrapt  her  arms,  for  healing,  round  my  neck  and 

side. 

Ah,  what  a  wile  was  that!  for  each  day  deeper  grew 
The  bruise  that  would  not  heal,  the  ache  that  never 

passed, 

The  flame  I  could  not  quench,  the  pain  that  never  flew, 
Till  her  sweet  love  was  granted,  for  the  which  I  asked. 

Then  fast  and  high  beat  pulse,  and  banished  fled  the 

pain; 
And  lightly  through  the   woodlands   we  ran  whole 

again! 


Slumbers. 

LOVE,  as  the  shadows  falter, 

And  the  dews  droop  o'er  the  wold, 
Let  us  hie  to  our  own  home  altar, 
And  our  wings,  that  are  weary,  fold. 

As  the  stars  shine  out  so  tender, 
And  the  moon,  with  its  cup  of  gold, 

Let  us  climb  to  our  perch  so  slender, 
To  Love's  nest— that  is  aeons  old ! 

Let  us  nestle  our  snow  white  pinions, 

And  flutter  our  feathers  of  down, 
While  the  stars  flash  out  in  their  millions 

And  the  moonbeams  the  midnight  crown! 

Ah  then— as  the  planets  sweep  sunward 
'Mid  murmurs  so  soothing— so  blest- 
Heart  to  heart  we  shall  dream,  and  float  on 
ward  ! 
We  shall  rest !    We  shall  rest !    We  shall  rest ! 


Peace, 

3  BREATHE,  today,  a  peace  no  untried    "angel" 
knows, 

Because  the  winds  have  hushed  that  tore  my  tired 
sails. 

Soft  zephyrs  soothe  my  brow,  where  hurtled  late  the 

snowj 
And  hawks  have  given  way  to  rapturous  nightingales. 

The  cold  fierce  north  that  drove,  erstwhile,  my  stag- 

'ring  bark, 

Has  lost  its  cruel  hold,  and,  in  the  place  of  fear, 
Kind  balm  fills  up  old  wounds,  and  moonlight  breaks 

the  dark; 
And  flowers  of    spring  burst  forth  from   those   wan 

mountains  drear! 

Fade,  then,  thou  spectres  grim,  of  Mammon,  Greed  and 
Care! 

Fly  far— who  rob  the  soul  to  stuff  the  purse  and  mouth  ! 

Be  gone!  blind  tyrants  base!  Pride,  Fashion,  Caste,  be 
ware  ! 

Deep,  sweet  and  long  I  drink  the  fragrance  of  my 
south. 

Fair  Isles  Atlantis  rise  where,  hushed,  the  nightwinds 

sleep ! 

My  boat  floats  light,  and  safe  within  its  port! 
Love's  curtains  closely  drawn  in  raptures  pure  and 

deep, 
God  gives  us  Hope  Etern';  and  not  one  tired  thought! 


78 


Pregnancy. 

)OOL  blow  the  zephyrs  in  the  July  neat, 

When,  fresh  with  dawn,  the  dew  has  wet  the 

•grass; 

From  sleep  refreshed  and  dreams  both  light  and  sweet 
In  quiet  consonance  the  still  morns  pass ; 
Till  noon  shuts  to  the  blind, 

And  Nature's  hush 
Tempers  with  fingers  kind, 
The  rough  world's  rush. 

There  in  the  shelter  from  the  troubl'ous  mart, 

Withdrawn  from  turmoil  and  in  greenwood  shade, 
The  "Love  Child"  nestles,  close  beside  the  heart, 
That  fairies  put  there,  and  the  good  God  made; 
There  in  its  cradled  bed, 

In  silent  bliss, 
With  heartsease  fed  — 
Born  with  a  kiss! 

How  shall  I  step  — with  tiptoe,  softly  light 

Enough  to  shield  from  shock  the  mother  mild  ? 
Lean  on  my  arm,  sweet  angel,  cool  and  white, 
And  let  the  father  bear  thee,  with  thy  tender  child. 
Rest  in  the  hammock's  arm ; 
Hearken  the  robin's  note  ; 
Hushed  are  the  hums  of  farm 
That  to  us  float. 


7'.' 


How  shall  I  measure  all  the  great  gift's  grace  ? 
How  shall  I  treasure  every  throbbing  pulse  ? 
Watching  with  anxious  eye  the  dear  young  face, 
And  every  jarring  accident  repulse  ? 
So  let  the  sovereign  power 

Of  Mighty  Pan, 
Shelter  each  holy  hour  — 
He  only  can. 

Warm  is  the  pregnant  year,  and  thou  my  precious  bride 

Knoweth  Life's  inward  bliss,  Her  rapture  deep! 
Thee  shall  her  wings  enfold,  thy  gentle  secret  hide, 
And  brood  upon  thee  with  her  quiet  sleep. 
Ye  two,  with  mother's  loves, 

God  keep  from  harm, 
And  guard  His  spotless  doves 
Safe  in  His  arm. 


.  7\A  Y  LOVE  is  like  a  lily  white 
(3/ Ay    That  grew  at  Easter  dawn ; 
She  came  as  comes  an  angel 

That  hails  a  holy  morn. 
Her  heart  is  clear  as  crystal, 

Her  bosom  pure  as  snow, 
And  fair  and  true  her  thoughts  are, 
As  only  angels  know. 

My  love  is  like  a  blood-red  rose 

That  bloomed  in  summer  time ; 
Her  heart  is  flushed  to  crimson, 

Her  bud  has  burst  to  prime ! 
Her  blushing  bosoms  soften. 
Her  veins  are  full  of  wine, 
And  like  sweet  dew  drops,  often, 
Rapt  kisses  rain  —  they're  mine ! 

My  love  is  like  a  cluster 

Of  grapes  in  Autumn  mauve ; 
Around,  her  darlings  muster- 
She  is  the  Mother  Love. 
On  every  side,  like  tendrils, 

They  climb  and  play  and  rove 
Like  waves  that  dance  at  evening 
Within  an  amber  cove! 


Ijawst  moon. 


)-NIGHT  I  saw  the  full  moon  round, 
With  winter  spicules  silvery  bright 
(The  wind  blew  soft  o'er  frozen  ground, 
The  woodlands,  stark,  were  full  of  light ; 

The  mountains  vast  were  gray  and  wan, 
The  valley's  mystic  depths  were  blue ) ; 

She  swam  up  like  a  white-winged  swan, 
And  'cross  her  breast  the  cloudlets  flew. 


I  bound  my  great'Coat  'round  my  form, 
I  watched  her  as  the  night  rolled  by; 

With  kindly  warning  'gainst  the  storm 
She  drew  a  Great  Ring  'round  the  sky, 

A  Wheel  of  Wonder,  star  begemmed, 
And  She  the  glorious  Axle  round, 

With  Love's  great  circlet  diademed, 
And  with  his  golden  chaplets  crowned! 


flucassin  and  fliccJcttc. 

[Lovelay  of  Old  Provence.] 

nr  ry  /""^•" 
\  V  /  HEN  sunlight  fills  the  south  of  France, 

V  V   And  peasants  with  King  Rene  dance. 
Then  soft  and  sweet  the  lay  was  sung 
How  troth  was  kept— when  Love  was  youne 
(Though  eyelids  droop,  and  cheeks  grow  wet 
For  "Aucassin  and  Nicolette.") 


How  she  was  woodman's  daughter  fair 

Whom  he,  the  Prince,  loved  to  despair! 

The  King  was  wroth,  the  courtiers  scowl, 
The  black  priests  curse  with  bell  and  cowl, 

The  Prince  holds  fast,  and  lets  them  fret; 

}0br  will  he  yield  -his  Nicolette ! 


They  cast  him  in  a  dungeon  low, 
And  swear  he'll  "ne'er  to  heaven  go!" 

"Do  you  go  there  ?"  he  asks  with  wit ; 


"Is  that  the  place  where  such  folks  fit? 
Then  let  me  go  where  you  don't  get, 
—With  Love  and  Life, and  Nicolette"! 


They  take  from  him  his  titles  all, 

And  threat  that  direst  woes  befall. 

"You  must  some  courtly  dame  espouse 
And  give  us  revel  and  carouse. 

For  if  you  don't,  we'll  hang  you,  yet ; 

And,  also,  that  young  Nicolette!" 


But  hark !    The  people  rise  en  masse ! 
For  Love,  you  know,  brings  things  to  pass! 

They  fling  the  King  and  courtiers  out! 

The  cringing,  cursing  monks  they  flout! 
Their  brave  young  Prince  on  throne  is  set. 
And  crowned  their  King— with  Nicolette! 


memory. 

3F I  should  fly  to  be  a  star. 
Wouldst  thou,  dear,  watch  me  from  afar, 
And  be  to  me  what  here  you  are  — 
My  sympathy  ? 

Wouldst  thou  raise  eyes,  bedewed,  to  Heaven, 

When  daylight  drooped,  at  tender  even', 
And  pray  that  some  day  thou  be  given 
My  destiny  ? 

Wouldst  thou  behold  those  circles  far 

On  which  I  rode  —  each  dazzling  bar  — 
And  ask  to  join  my  seraph  car  — 
Infinity  ? 

Wouldst  thou,  upon  the  crumbling  earth, 

Where  once  my  image  had  its  birth, 
Plant  some  fair  vine  to  clasp,  by  worth, 
Eternity  ? 

And  breathe  into  the  passing  air 

The  incense  of  a  spirit  fair 
That  lives  for  thee,  Love,  everywhere, 
In  ecstasy? 


85 


Che  East  Swan. 

A  V /HY  beat  against  the  night  winds  dark, 
V  V      The  mountain  lone,  the  somber  plains  ? 

My  very  heart-beats  hunters  hark  — 
My  plumage  damp  with  winter  rains! 

I  hear  the  lone  loon  call  afar ; 

The  sad  moon  dips  her  shallow  cup; 
The  tides  are  "out",  with  bare  a  star ; 

The  sands  have  drunk  my  lakelets  up! 

What  good  am  I,  a  waste  swan  white, 

That  sings  a  last  song  to  the  year  ? 
What  use  to  beat  against  the  night, 

And  wander  through  the  chill  wind  drear  ? 

I'll  hie  me  to  that  silent  nook 
Where  dip  the  reeds  and  hush  the  airs ; 

A  nest  that  every  hope's  forsook, 
And  build  it  of  my  dark  despairs ! 

I'll  quaff  me  there  my  last  of  woes, 
And  sink  my  song  beneath  my  wing; 

And  when  I'm  whiter  than  the  snows, 
They'll  find  my  Spirit— in  the  Spring ! 


BB 


Conging  and  TligM. 


HLYwithme!    Fly  with  me!    Into  the  West, 
gji,       Into  the  west— as  the  sun  goes  down! 
Each  in  the  bosom  that  it  loves  best, 
To  a  couch  of  roses  ana  eider  down! 

There  in  long  slumber  to  droop  to  rest, 
Where  only  the  Ocean  hears  our  moan  ! 


O!  for  a  skiff  by  its  margin  grand! 

O for  the  blade  of  a  magic  oar! 
O  for  Love's  breezes  to  sweep  the  strand, 
That  waft  to  the  long  sought  farther  shore! 

There  on  the  pebbles,  in  peace  to  sleep, 
Lulled  by  the  murmur  of  deep  to  deep! 


Only  the  lover  knows  the  way 

Over  the  mountains  to  that  fond  shore! 
Only  Love's  eyelids  ope'  to  the  Day 
That  heralds  the  Kingdom  of  "Evermore" ! 

Hasten!  O  hasten  Sweet  Spirit  of  Grace ; 
Come  at  Love's  call  to  the  Human  Race! 


87 


Dove  Ulittg$. 

r ;\H.  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove, 

\L/       I  would  fly!    I  would  fly! 

Till  I  came  to  the  Bosom  of  Love ! 
On  its  breast,  on  its  breast,  I  would  lie! 
And  never  again  would  I  roam 
From  my  rest,  from  my  haven,  my  home  ! 

Oh,  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove, 

So  silvered,  so  spotless,  so  white! 
I  would  fly  the  sad  world  far  above, 
Till  I  came  to  the  Fountain  of  Light! 

There,  safe  from  false  Fashion's  allure, 
I  would  bathe  in  those  billows  so  pure! 

Oh,  had  I  the  wings  of  a  dove, 
So  tender,  so  gentle,  so  kind! 
I  would  cease  o'er  earth's  deserts  to  rove, 
And  leave  all  its  sorrows  behind. 

I  would  follow  the  song  of  the  lark 
Till  I  came  to  my  Home  in  the  Ark! 

Borne  upward,  borne  onward  by  Faith, 

No  longer  the  buffet  of  wind ; 

No  longer  the  puppet  of  Death, 

No  longer  afflicted  nor  blind ; 

I  would  droop,   with  my  pinions  so  weak, 
And  nestle,  at  rest,  by  Love's  cheek! 


C'flillc  Uolantc. 


N  flying  wing 
I  soar  and  sing, 

Nor  ever  rest  for  home! 
Over  the  seas 
I  seek  no  ease, 

I  cross  above  the  foam ! 


No  gentle  nest 

May  warm  my  breast, 

I  must  be  on  the  wing! 
Though  heart  should  break, 
And  brain  should  ache, 

I'm  doomed  to  fly  and  sing! 


Over  the  land, 
On  every  hand, 

I  herald  in  the  Day! 
Bird  of  the  Morn, 
The  night  I  scorn, 

I  may  not  sleep  nor  play! 


See— on  my  plume, 
The  iris  bloom, 

It  is  the  breath  of  Spring! 
Awake!    Awake! 
The  shadows  break 

Before  my  skyward  wing! 


Into  my  home 
I,  too.  shall  come, 

Toward  the  closing  year; 
My  course  well  run, 
Beyond  the  sun 

My  Bride  and  Rest  appear! 


There  in  the  Breast 
Of  Love,  at  rest, 

I  shall  no  longer  roam ; 
Clasped  in  Her  peace 
My  task  shall  cease, 

In  Paradise  my  Home! 


Che  Uisitcr. 

DREAMED  I  lived  long  ages  past 

Within  a  star  of  prior  night. 

^  ^ 
It  bore  me  while  the  shad«»s  did  last 

Before  the  morning  come  to  light! 

I  knew  its  cerements  hung  damp 
About  my  brow,  around  my  form  ; 
And  though  I  bore  an  angel's  lamp 
It  tossed  me  in  the  arms  of  storm  ! 


Away!  away!    I  can  not  wait ! 

I  bring  thee  joy— or  bring  thee  harm— 
Tis  thou  must  say,  for  it  is  late, 
And  midnight  wraps  me  in  her  arm! 

I  must  be  gone  to  whence  I  came ; 
I  have  ray  tryste  with  those  that  gleam 
My  song  is  sung ;  my  heart  is  lame ; 
And  earth  is  but  an  hour's  dream! 


91 


There  is  one  soul,  perchance,  who  flings 

(As  far  across  the  stars  in  flight 
I  plume  and  spread  a  wanderer's  wings) 
Some  farewell— through  the  coming  night. 

Perchance— who  knows — had  it  but  stayed 
The  drooping  flight,  the  restless  hour, 
The  goodbye  might  have  been  delayed, 
The  spirit  found  again  its  power! 


Soft  sinks  the  twilight  o'er  the  plain ; 

The  moonlight  floods  the  mountain  round  : 
Good  bye!  I  may  come  back  again 
In  springbudsand  in  birdlings'  sound! 

But  thou— O  soul !  that  loved  me  once— 
Where  wilt  thou  be,  should  I  but  call? 
—In  colors  of  autumnal  months? 
—In  rainbow— or  in  waterfall? 


— \?° 


fiomeward. 

U  may  not  care  for  a  faint,  frail  song, 

Sung  far  up  in  the  tree, 
Where  the  tiptop  branches  quaver 
And  the  winds  blow  wild  and  free ; 
But  I  sang  as  I  felt  in  my  sadness, 

I  sang  as  I'd  loved  to  roam 
With  the  winds  and  the  waves  in  their  madness, 

And  now  I'm  flying  home! 

With  the  winds  and  the  waves  in  their  gladness 
And  now  I  am  going  home! 


Perchance  when  the  world  has  grown  silent, 

Its  music  of  fashion  all  gone, 
You  will  hear  from  the  depths  of  your  being 

A  voice  that  is  tender  and  lone. 
It  will  come  from  a  far  off  mountain, 

Where  never  walked  mortal  feet; 
It  will  breathe  of  the  forest  and  fountain, 

And  thrill  with  a  fragrance  complete ; 
It  will  LIVE  in  the  forest  and  fountain, 

And  make  your  life  COMPLETE. 


eagles. 

3  RESTED  on  a  grassy  knoll 
Where  man  had  toiled  and  Time  rolled  by 
I  saw  the  passive  mountain  old, 
And  wtuched  the  eagles  in  the  sky. 


The  Mountain  said  :    "  My  son,  take  heed  ; 

From  age  to  age  the  Truth  endures." 
The  Eagle  said  :    "  My  son,  bespeed ! 

The  Spirit  calls,  the  sky  is  yours." 


I  laid  me  down  my  mantle  old 
Of  flesh,  beneath  the  mountain  sod 

The  crystals  kept  it  pure  and  cold, 
And  o'er  it  bloomed  the  golden-rod. 


But  as  I  rose  and  glanced  on  high— 
A  lamp  of  seven  candles  white! 

On  eagle  wings  I  clove  the  sky 
And  passed  forever  from  the  night! 


94 


Dante  and  Beatrice. 

3  STAGGERED  through  a  vale  of  tears— 
My  poet  led— I  trembling  stepped ! 
He  was  God's  spirit,  thro'  the  years, 
And  knew  (how  deeply !)  why  I  wept. 

His  arm  was  wrapped  around  my  form, 
And  held  me  up  through  every  storm. 


I  drank  the  shades  of  Erebus, 

And  walked  quite  through  the  vale  of  death ! 

And  ah !  how  sadly  did  discuss 

With  him,  the  sights  that  caught  my  breath ! 
— 'Till  far  beyond  its  smoke  and  fires 
He  brought  me  to  my  soul's  desires. 


For  now  there  burst  upon  my  eyes 
The  lights  of  meadows  Asphodel! 
I  heard  the  songs  of  Paradise, 
And  clasped  the  Form  I  loved  so  well ! 

While  all  around,  the  birdlets  sing! 

And,  alway,  flowers  immortal  bloom ! 

And  Beatrice  gives  me  her  ring 

Because  her  Love  fills  all  the  room! 


Tl  Paradise. 


HE  gates  of  pearl  and  glory, 
Are  swinging  wide  apart ! 
see  the  fond  old  story, 
Two  lover's  -heart  to  heart! 


They  pass  far  into  Heaven 
Beside  bright  crystal  streams, 

And  taste  the  sacred  leaven 
That  fed  their  former  dreams! 


They  glide  along  a  terrace 
Of  deathless  floral  bloom ; 

They  wander  through  God's  palact 
And  dwell  from  room  to  room ! 


They  clasp  each  other's  fingers, 
Entwined  in  love's  allure; 

They  kiss,  embrace,  and  linger 
In  bliss  forever  sure! 


Segments. 

O  LONG  astray  in  a  world  so  blind! 
What  fate  hath  held  them  apart,  unkind' 


A  breeze  sweeps  over  the  earth's  wan  face, 
They  see  each  other  —  they  rush  —  embrace ! 
And  a  heavenly  host  looks  down  to  greet 
A  new  born  bliss  in  their  wedding  meet. 
Henceforth  forever,  howe'er  apart, 
They  are  one  body,  they  are  one  heart! 


Hush !  'tis  the  sound  of  the  passing  bell, 
And  a  light  breaks  in  that  lifts  the  spell ; 
The  mists  unroll,  the  bars  are  riven  — 
They  are  one  soul  and  they  are  in  Heaven ! 


Hark  how  the  seraphs  stay  their  feet! 

"They  were  but  segments— they  are  COMPLETE.' 


thought  and  fiction. 

OMETIMES  thought  waits  on  action,  and  the 

Dream 

Is  born  in  going;  and  the  strong  desire 
Comes  as  a  friction  starts  a  flame  of  fire, 
Or  nearness  brings  attraction ;  and  I  ne'er  had  loved 
Had  I  not  risen  first  and  forward  moved. 

Yet  action  comes  of  thought,  and  loves  to  wait, 
Halting,  as  children  swing  the  garden  gate, 
And  fear  to  venture  forth ;  their  mother's  voice 
Sounds  sweet  behind,   commanding  from  the  dust 

and  noise ; 

They  know,   if  once  "  runover  ,"    thought  may  come 
too  late ! 

Ah,  once,  when  I  was  young,  'twas  action  brave 

I  sought  and  followed,  and  it  led  my  heart ; 

Now  thought  and  conscience  twined  have  made  me 

slave. 

I  wait  their  tender  summons  to  "arise  and  start." 
Lord,  keep  them  all  so  linked  that  they  may  never 
part. 

And  maybe,  as  I  go.  the  light  will  grow  to  more ; 

And  growing  more,  the  braver  shall  I  stride. 

Thought  leads,  but  oft  by  action  is  not  marred. 
Hounds  circle  hunters,  whom  they  scarce  regard, 
And  yet  the  gun  and  voice  their  wayward  motion 
guide. 


fiead  or  fjeart? 


1HE  heart  is  nobler  than  the  head  — 
Were  this  not  so  the  soul  were  dead. 
Tell  me  not— this  or  that  man's  "  smart"  ; 
Earth  needs  more  men  of  nobler  heart 
To  lead  a  zealous  life  for  Faith, 
And  by  strong  courage  conquer  Death. 

I  care  not  for  the  brain  of  skill, 
Where  brilliance  leads  so  oft  to  ill : 
The  wily  diplomat  — the  chief  — 
Whose  deaths  are  but  the  world's  relief, 
Vain  of  their  practice,  or  their  sword, 
And  proud  of  dictatorial  word. 

Give  us  the  men  of  generous  deed, 

The  friend  proved  true  through  every  need, 

The  love  that's  faithful  to  the  end, 

The  sympathy  that  dares  to  bend. 

Give  us  the  love  of  tenderness, 
That  feels  for  human  life's  distress ; 
Far,  far  above  the  intellect, 
Such  comradeship  the  goto   elect. 


99 


my  home. 

T  V  /ITHIN  my  heart,  I  have  a  Home 
V  V       A11  bright  with  tender  loving  ties ; 

There  I  return— howe'er  I  roam— 
And  rest  with  gently  shaded  eyes. 

There  Love,  that  passed  to  Heaven  before, 
Returns  to  clasp  my  soul  to  hers, 

And  when  we've  closed  the  senses'  door 
Each  spirit  chord  within  us  stirs. 

We  know  and  hold  each  other's  form, 
We  drink  again  from  spirit  eyes, 

And  safe  against  all  earthly  storm 
We  share  anew  each  heart  surprise. 

There  is  my  Home— Time  cannot  touch 
Nor  wounds  attack!  nor  evermore 

Can  Earth  provide  another  such 
'Till  we  two  reach  the  upper  shore. 


100 


Sweet  ulild  Rose. 

»  LJ  LONE  I  walked  within  the  forest  shade, 
^J  JL     When  all  the  Spring  with  verdure  was  en 
hanced, 
And  there  within  a  cool  and  silent  glade. 

Upon  a  modest  Wild  Rose,  fair,  I  chanced. 


What  makes  thee,  sweetest  fay,  so  shy  and  lone, 
'Mid  all  the  forest  glories  so  complete? 

Is  it  thy  frail  wan  beauty  — that  I  own  — 
Clinging  so  plaintive  to  my  passing  feet  ? 

Or  is  it  that  faint  incense  so  divine, 

Wafted  from  heaven  and  caught  within  thy  blush? 
Or  opening  petals  like  ambrosial  wine, 

Or  daintiest  kisses  given  in  evening's  hush  ? 

No!  fondest  flower,  most  chaste,  most  passing  fair, 
Casting  thy  heart's  full  rapture  in  one  daylight's 
glow  — 

Opening  thy  bosom's  beauty  to  one  Spring  day's  air, 
It  is  because  my  True  Love  loved  thee  so ! 


101 


One  White  Rose. 

(5\_r  ER  white,  white  rose !  I  saw  it  bloom, 
*_yl      Beneath  fond  skies,  above  her  tomb. 

It  was  so  frail,  so  pure  and  fair, 
Its  fragrance  melting  on  the  air; 

Its  form  so  perfect  in  its  grace, 

I  knew  in  it  her  angel  face 

Come  back  to  bless  with  heavenly  bloom. 

It  was  her  spirit  from  the  tomb! 

I  bent  and  kissed  it  as  it  grew, 
Its  tender  petals  fair  and  few; 
80  still  in  its  intensity, 
So  full  of  God's  divinity! 

I  knew  her,  in  her  robes  of  white, 

Serene  and  sweet  with  heavenly  light! 

O  angel  bright!  O  spirit  dear! 

Come  back,  come  back  forever  here  ! 

Bend  down  and  bloom  from  year  to  year! 

Drink  through  thy  root  each  falling  tear 

I  shed  beside  thee  day  by  day, 

And  slowly  bear  my  grief  away; 

And  pour  it  forth  upon  the  wind, 
An  incense  blessed  to  help  mankind 
Up  from  this  slab  of  graven  stone 
To  the  bright  steps  of  Jesus'  throne. 


102 


God's  tokens. 


GENTLE  flowers,  what  shall  we  do 

To  manifest  our  love  to  you, 
For  all  the  light  and  hope  divine 
That  through  thy  quiet  petals  shine  ? 

How  long  within  the  winter's  tomb 

Ye  bore  the  silence  and  the  gloom ; 

How  long,  with  Faith's  almighty  art. 

Ye've  twined  your  roots  'round  Nature's  heart. 

Yes!  then  She  knew  you  for  Her  own. 
And  broke  the  bonds  of  clod  and  stone ; 
Her  soft  breath  breathed  your  incense  sweet ; 
Her  mother  fingers  twined  your  feet. 

Her  mother's  blood  poured  through  your  frame. 
Her  loving  blush  was  in  your  flame ; 
Her  dimples  in  your  tender  smile 
That  all  man's  grief  and  tears  beguile. 

Bloom,  gentle  flowers,  about  her  brow, 
Whose  soul  is  part  of  Nature's  now ; 
Whose  heart  is  God's,  whose  love  is  ours, 
And  kisses  us  through  all  His  flowers. 


103 


ministering   flngeis. 


Shelley—  by  the  river's  bank 
Wandering  with  True  Love  for  eternal  mate, 
Did  hear  the  Sky  Lark,  as  on  high  it  sank 
Within  the  cloudlands—  into  Heaven's  gate. 

He  fancied  it  "the  Lark",  but  well  I  know 

'twas  Love 

With  pinions  broad  and  free,  that  bore  hi* 
soul  above! 

For  once,  beside  a  southland  stream, 

When  nights  were  rich  and  moons  were  full, 
I  walked  in  such  divinest  dream, 
And  clasped  my  angel  beautiful! 

The  nightingale,  I  thought,  was  plainting 

to  us  both. 

Dear  Heart!  I  now  know  well,  it  was  our 
tender  troth! 

O  moons  so  tremulous,  so  sad! 

O  stars  that  watch  o'er  land  and  sea! 
Bend  low!  come  close!  with  whisper  glad, 
And  bring  my  Heart's  Love  back  to  me! 

And  when  across  Life's  shore  I  hear  the 

seraphs  sing 

Let  it  be  her  loved  voice  that  filleth  every 
thing! 

O  earth  so  warm  and  sweet  ! 
O  skies  so  bright—  so  blue! 
Thy  bliss  with  ours  must  meet 
And  blend  our  lives  with  you. 

We  are  thy  children  frail—  from  out  Thy 

Heavenly  heart  : 

Great  Nature  fold  us  safe,  in  Love  no  more 
to  part! 

104 


martba's  Spirit. 

(O T  O-DAY  I  wandered  by  the  woods  and  waves, 
*JL     And  watched  the  summer  sky  burst  pure  and 

bright ; 

The  green  banks  that  the  gentle  water  laves 
With  silvered  surface  and  with  liquid  light ; 

The  wind  went  rustling  through  the  swaying  trees, 
The  birds  sang  blithely  to  the  passing  breeze. 


The  vine  that  clambered  on  the  old  gray  wall ; 

The  nests  that  lurked  in  bushes  by  the  way; 

The  light  boat  dancing,  with  its  bird-winged  sails; 

The  joyous  children  as  they  pranced  at  play ; 

O'er  all  the  kindly  earth  there  grew  a  peace  serene, 
And  there,  in  every  spot,  my  True  Love's  form  was 
seen! 


Her  face  was  floating  in  the  rosewhite  cloud ; 
Her  heavenly  eyes  shone  through  the  azure  air ; 
Her  robes  were  swaying  in  those  leafy  crowds ; 
In  golden  grains  and  grasses  waved  her  hair! 

I  felt  her  fingers  kind  pass  lightly  o'er  my  face ; 

I  heard  her  footfall  soft,  in  all  its  grace! 


105 


O,  my  Beloved  !    Thou  art  everywhere  to  me, 

Within  each  beauty  that  the  world  contains  ! 

Though  thou  hast  passed  above,  serene  and  free, 

Thy  loving  presence  all  my  life  sustains! 

What  would  the  round  world  be  but  some  vast  void 
If  Heaven  and  Hope  should  flee,  Faith  be  destroyed? 


I  trust  the  Lord  of  Life  because  He  made  thy  love ; 

I  rest  within  His  power  because  he  framed  thy  face ; 

The  pure  sky  points  me  to  His  home  above; 

Songbirds  and  flowerets  prove  to  me  His  grace. 
Each  endless  river,  steeped  in  Spring's  perfume, 
Tells  of  Life's  ocean  tides  beyond  the  tomb! 


Each  star  that  twinkles  in  the  twilight  shade ; 

Each  morning  rising  on  the  darkened  night; 

Each  lark-song  bursting  from  the  quiet  glade, 

Proclaim  "  At  eventide  it  shall  be  light "  ! 

When  pain  is  past  and  griefs  try  hearts  no  more, 
Immortal  Love  shall  fold  us  on  Life's  brighter  shore. 


106 


my  Opersoul. 

£0  WEET  Oversoul,  from  all  about  me  stealing 
^X    Thy  deep  aroma  and  thine  incense  fine, 
'— "*• — '    I  feel  Thy  glorious  life's  intense  revealing 
Thy  matchless  fragrance  and  thy  richest  wine. 


What  though  the  zephyrs,  through  the  nightwatch 
failing, 

Sink  into  faintness  through  my  sad  heart  lone  ? 
What  though  I  know  my  form  is  worn  and  ailing, 

My  Love  harks  deeper  to  its  Undertone. 


I  know  its  quiet  minor  chords  are  breaking 
With  the  dull  anguish  of  a  lot  forlorn  ; 

Through  all  its  reeds  I  hear  the  night  wind  shaking, 
The  mournful  music  that  I  knew  when  I  was  born. 


Why  was  I  cast  upon  the  shore  of  Time,  forsaken, 
With  Love's  deep  hunger  gnawing  at  my  heart  ? 

Oh,  for  the  soul  that  was  my  own  soul's  making, 
The  long  sought  spirit  kept,  in  pain,  apart! 


Come  thou!  with  kiss  the  keener  for  the  waiting; 

Drink  up  my  life  with  ecstacy  more  vast! 
Deep  unto  deep,  the  thirst  of  true  love  slaking, 

Fed  with  a  fullness  that  shall  ever  last ! 


107 


Consolation. 

3  HEAR  the  Spring  bird  fling  his  strain 
Into  the  teeth  of  Winter  and  the  night ; 
I  hear  the  woodbrooks  rippling  on  again, 
And  note  the  robin  on  his  northward  flight. 
"To  thee,  sad  soul,  this  sign  the  good  God  gives ; 
Awake  thy  faith  and  know  that    'thy   Redeemer 
lives !'" 

The  buds  are  breaking  on  the  moss-grown  tree, 

The  tangled  tarn  is  sparkling  to  the  light ; 
A  softer  wind  is  sighing  down  the  lea, 
And  thro'  the  frost  the  snowdrop  struggles  bright. 
"Brave  heart,  how  canst  thou  fail  that  thus  thy 

nature  grieves, 

When  all  God's  nature  cries,  '  Thy  great  Redeemer 
lives'  ?" 

Within  a  grass-grown  mound  my  Love  lies  sleeping 

still; 
My  tears  have  mingled  there  with  every  floweret's 

root ! 

"But  'twas  her  body's  dust,  her  soul  has  risen  to  fill 
Its  place  in  seraph  bands  about  the  Saviour's  foot; 
And   now  with  them  she  knows  Him  whom  her 

faith  believes. 

Awake  thy  harp  of  Hope!     Her  great  Redeemer 
lives  ! 

Hear !  o'er  the  echoing  hills  their  angel  choirs  come ! 
Hark!  in  the  soul's  still  ear,  her  voice  so  far  and 

sweet ! 

(ilance  to  that  starry  host  that  is  her  happy  home. 
And  seethe  loved  ones  gone  that  there  her  presence 

greet! 

Her  God  that  gave  such  love,  is  not  one  that  de 
ceives  ; 

She  says,    '  Be  strong !   I  know  that  our  Redeemer 
lives!'" 

108 


Sbcaccs. 

A  V  /HEN  plovers  pipe,  and  the  year  is  ripe, 
VV      And  color  floods  the  mellow  leaves ; 
\Ve  do  not  fear  for  the  fading  year, 
We  gather  in  the  harvest  sheaves. 
The  wild  wind  grieves 
And  the  sea  bereaves, 
But  we  store  up  the  golden  sheaves! 

Old  age  is  bright  when  the  heart  is  light, 

And  Love  builds  under  the  old  home  eaves. 
By  the  long  life— strain^  and  the  brave  heart's 
pain, 

We  gather  up  the  harvest  sheaves ! 
By  deeds  well  done 
And  faith  that's  won. 
We  gather  up  the  golden  sheaves! 

O  God  of  Grace  with  a  Mother's  face. 

Thanks  for  the  hope  that  the  soul  receives; 
For  the  love  we  own,  and  the  dear  ones  gone ; 
Thou  gatherest  Thy  golden  sheaves! 

On  Thy  broad  Breast  warm, 
With  Thy  great  kind  Arm, 
Thou  gatherest  Thy  Golden  Sheaves! 


109 


Txion. 

4\  Y  /  H  AT  is  Love's  crime,  that  it  must  ever  be 

V  V    Broken  upon  the  wheels  of  destiny? 
Saint  Catherine's  body— ever  bent,  bereaved ! 
Sweet  Christ's— alas,  so  often  still,  deceived! 

What  is  the  Heart's  complaint,  that  it  must  know 
The  joy,  the  sorrow,  and  the  thoughtless  blow, 
The  bitter  sweet,  the  thorn  crown's  little  ruth, 
The  cross  that  goes  before  till  this  spell— Truth? 

What  is  Love's  fault  that  it  must  ever  show 
A  smiling  face  where  lurks  the  smothered  woe? 
While,  bearing  all,  it  knows  not  how  to  rise 
Nor  hide  the  stifled  anguish  of  its  eyes! 

What  has  it  done— that  it  must  ever  share 
TMe  world's  wan  strain— its  midnight— its  despair- 
Its  tempest  toss— its  path  so  little  clear 
Enveiled  in  shrouding  mists  of  Doubt  and  Fear? 

Brave  Love!  we  know  not  where,  nor  when,  nor  why, 
But  still  we  follow  Thee— until  we  die! 
We  welcome  humbling  scorn— the  blow— the  pain- 
So  be  it  Thou  but  lead,  till  Heaven  we  gain! 


no 


Hffliction. 

/*\""pREGNANT  sorrow  of  the  heart 
vl/  That  hides  itself  with  poignant  art 
And  like  the  Spartan  fox  of  old 
Gnaws  out  the  life— beneath  the  fold 
Of  our  poor  dumb  humility; 
And  eats  out  its  tranquility ! 


How  is  the  earth  grown  dark  and  bare 
I  clasp  one  little  lock  of  hair- 
One  little  glove— a  fold  of  lace— 
A  kiss— worn  image  of  her  face, 
Down  which  my  tears  forever  flow 
With  heartbreak's  surging  undertow ! 


What  is  the  world  now,  with  its  blind 
And  dreary  wastes— so  little  kind? 
Its  deserts  where  the  spirit  faints 
And  for  Life's  cool  spring  water  plaints ; 
Love's  green  oasis  in  the  glow ; 
Life's  one  true  rest  on  earth  below ! 


Ill 


O  to  lie  down  beyond  the  heat, 
Alone,  apart,  at  True  Love's  feet! 
To  droop  the  hot  brow  on  her  breast 
And  in  its  murmured  soothings  rest! 
To  see  the  soft  light,  from  her  eyes 
Look  down  like  stars  from  Paradise ! 


What  shall  I  do,  now,  blind  and  stark 

Staggering  into  the  future's  dark? 

I  hear  the  night  birds,  lone  and  shrill, 

And  the  sad  weep  of  whippo'will. 

I  catch  the  dull  plash  of  the  river 

And  the  cold  wind  with  its  evening  shiver! 


O  Love  Divine  that  stooped  to  earth 
And  brought  to  us  Thy  "Second  Birth," 
Didst  Thou  not  bear  Thy  cross  alone, 
Thy  thorn  crown,  and  Thy  dull  tombstone^ 
—Yet  angels  bright  sat  at  the  door 
Where  Thy  bruised  corse  had  lain  before! 


Dids't  Thou  not  rise— in  light  serene 

As  winter  yields  to  springtime  green? 

Didst  Thou  not  cast  thy  cerements, 

Revealing  thy  sublime  Intents, 

And  out  of  darkness  bring  the  light? 

And  from  the  earth  mold  come  forth— white! 


112 


ncwmber. 

/£\  TRANGE  Friend,  how  com'st  thou  with  thy 

^V         pallor  keen, 
-  ""^^^    To  chill  the  warm,  sweet  breeze  that  summer 

evening  fanned  ? 

"  Doest  thou  not  know  I  ripen  all  things  green, 
And  with  my  sickle  ope'  the  seed  cells  to  the  land  ? 


"  The  pure  white  snow  my  blanket  is,  so  warm! 
It  shelters  them  from  frost  and  fertilizes  earth  ; 
Each  sparkling  crystal  gem  shall  keep  the  germ  from 

harm, 
And,  in  each  bud  of  beauty,  shall  awake  to  birth! 


"  When  once  again  the  heart  of  Springtime  woosthe 

wind, 

And,  softened  by  the  storm,  the  mellow  mold  unfolds ; 
Out  of  the  ice  and  rain,  the  Winter  shall  prove  kind, 
And  thou  shalt  clasp  again  thy  loved  ones,  as  of  old." 


So  shall  my  heart  rejoice,  though  seated,  sad  and  lone, 
Beside  the  silent  hearth,  while  tender  tear  drops  fall. 
Mother  of  Christ!  Thou  knew  the  pang  that  clove  the 

bone, 
And  yet,  in  Heavenly  Light  Thou  claspest  all  in  all! 


113 


the  Carter  Rain. 

~1WT  Y  GENTLE  flowers  drooped  and  pined 
'  I ](\     Through  the  long  drouth ,  while  hot  winds 

V-^~*   fanned 

Those  tender  buds  I'd  striven  to  mind, 
And  those  bright  rows  so  deftly  planned 

The  roses  paled,  the  violets  fled, 
The  jonquils  failed,  the  pansies  died; 

They  slept  by  my  Beloved  Dead, 
And  over  them  the  sad  wind  sighed. 

Dear  Lord,  that  gave  them  all  to  me, 

The  fair,  the  fragrant,  and  the  dear, 
Didst  Thou  not  all  my  labor  see, 

And  count  and  weigh  each  falling  tear 

Behold  them  watered  with  mv  grief, 

My  heart's  deep  fount  of  bitter  pain ; 
Salt  streams  that  gave  such  scant  relief 

And  died  at  source— to  fall  again  ! 

*       *       *       * 
But  what  are  these  that  gently  fall 

Upon  the  parched  and  thirsty  sod  ? 
Sweet  drops  of  rain  Thy  grace  recall ! 

Surely  they  are  the  tears  of  God! 

Yea,  now  I  know  Thou  weepest,  too, 

And  hearest  every  human  heart ; 
Forlo!  the  desert  smiles  anew, 

And  blooms  with  Thy  consoling  Art. 


114 


Chose  forms  Celestial. 

(£\  EEST  them  the  bright  buds  on  the  tree, 
^V    That  bloom  from  out  Infinity  ? 
<~*^-J    Seest  thou  the  flower  and  tender  fruit 
That  rises,  mystic,  from  the  root  ? 

Deep  hidden  in  the  womb  of  Earth, 
Within  a  seed  they  had  their  birth. 

But  who  had  born  that  seed,  I  pray  ? 

"Great  Mother  Earth,"  the  wise  men  say. 

But  who  bore  her,  and  you,  wise  men  ? 

Look  further,  deeper,  think  again. 

Whence  came  this  planet  and  those  suns, 
And  Life  that  through  creation  runs  ? 

Ah,  yes,  within  an  ocean  vast 

Of  Life  and  Love  and  Beauty,  passed 

A  current  like  a  mighty  wind, 

With  poems  from  the  Almighty  Mind ; 

Filled  with  His  wisdom,  love  and  art, 
And  tenderest  feelings  of  His  heart 

Whence  came  the  brain  of  Newton  brave, 
Upon  this  ocean,  like  some  wave  ? 
The  soul  of  Shakespeare  ?  Lincoln's  heart  ? 
Great  Kepler's  eye  ?  young  Raphael's  art  ? 

Unselfish  life  of  Washington  ? 

And  that  vast  love  of  Mary's  Son  ? 

Whence  came  the  cry  of  Liberty, 
That  every  conscience  should  be  free 
To  know  its  God,  by  Him  be  blest, 
And  in  His  love  and  wisdom  rest  ? 

Out  of  that  ocean  of  all  bliss 

We've  learned  the  source  of  "  mother's  kiss. 

115 


Tell  me,  is  that  a  God  less  fair 

Than  all  his  matchless  flowerets  are  ? 

Is  that  a  Mind  less  wise  or  high 

Than  the  best  brains  that  ask  Him  "  Why  "  ? 
Is  God's  great  Soul  less  pure  and  good 
Than  His  best  types  of  womanhood  ? 

Has  He  no  heart  to  feel  our  woe 

When  from  us  back  to  Him  they  go  ? 

Would  any  father,  half  so  wise, 

Blight  hope  and  light  from  his  child's  eyes  ? 

Would  He  bereave  where  we  would  bless, 
And  curse  where  mother  would  caress  ? 

No!  to  the  splendor  of  the  sun 

All  tides  of  Life  and  Beauty  run ! 

From  Him  they  came,  to  Him  they  go; 

Their  ebb  and  tide  is  His  heart's  flow; 
He  will  preserve  each  feature  fair 
That  doth  His  nature's  Self  declare. 

More  precious  far  our  souls  to  Him 
Than  bubbles  breaking  on  the  brim 
Of  basin.    No  mere  nothings,  we, 
But  children  of  Eternity. 

The  Godhead's  love  is  in  our  heart, 

And  all  our  being  is  His  Art. 

The  grain  thou  sowest— does  it  die? 

No!  'tis  REBORN  before  thine  eye! 

There  is  a  "  Form  terrestial", 

And  one,  more  bright,  "  celestial  " ', 

The  atoms  change,  but  onward  ever 
The  Spirit  lives  to  new  endeavor! 


116 


ulintcr  Stars. 

3Tis  the  frosty  night 
When,  clear  and  strong  and  bright. 
There  bursts  the  Christ  Tide  strain 
Above  the  year's  dull  pain, 
And  tells  of  Love 
Far,  far  above 
The  sobbing  rain! 

I  wander,  lone  and  still, 
Into  the  evening  chill, 
Upon  the  mountain  side ; 
And  watch  this  Christmas  tide 

Descend  again 

To  suffering  men 
That  here  abide. 

Enwrapt  in  sad  surprise 

I  glance,  with  glistening  eyes! 

The  stars  seem  low  and  near. 

Brightening  with  influence  clear ; 
Streaming— so  pure— 
So  strong  and  sure— 

As  though  to  chide  my  fear ! 


117 


They  know  my  heart's  lone  cry 
Lest  with  Love's  wounds  I  die  ! 
Spirits  of  God  they  seem 
Parting  the  night's  blue  dream 
With  candelabra  rays 
Heralding  heavenly  days 
Through  golden  gates  that  stream  ! 

O,  Life  Divine,  complete, 

Hasten  with  eager  feet, 

My  soul  to  heal! 

See— 'neath  Thy  stars  I  kneel, 
My  battle  won, 
My  Passion  crown ! 

My  Victory  seal! 


€be  Diamond. 

(OT  HEY  tell  me  of  a  diamond 

*  JL      They  found  in  dust  and  sand  ; 
Its  luster  ever  brilliant, 

Its  glories  ever  grand ! 
It  was  the  light  of  Beauty 

—  Between  the  atoms  frail ! 
It  was  the  Star  of  Duty 

—Whose  splendors  never  pale ! 
It  was  the  Flame  of  Goodness 

—Whose  grace  filled  all  the  room ! 
It  was  the  Torch  of  Genius 

—That  banished  all  the  gloom  ! 

118 


follow  Chou  me. 

A  V  /HAT  though  the  night  be  dark  or  chill 
VV     And  the  path  be  steep  up  over  the  hill? 

The  road  is  rough  to  more  than  thee, 
And  high  is  the  call  of  Destiny: 
"  Follow  thou  Me!  " 

What  though  thy  locks  be  damp  with  dew, 

Thy  friends  be  far,  thy  forces  few ; 
Though  wild  wolf  laugh,  though  hoots  the  owl, 

Though  maid  prove  false,  or  man  be  foul— 
"  What's  that  to  thee  ?  " 

Grand  is  this  school  of  growing  men ! 

The  moons  must  wane,  yet  wax  again! 
The  breakers  roll  on  endless  shore, 

And  the  tempest  rises  evermore, 
Thou  canst  not  flee! 

The  father  toils— but  for  his  child ; 

The  mother  chides— but  her  heart  is  mild ; 
Why  art  thou  here,  dost  thou  suppose  ? 
To  catch  the  BEAUTY  in  the  rose ! 
To  hear  the  SONG  in  the  mighty  sea ! 

Press  up  the  Heights  and  bravely  be! 
What  are  the  thorns  to  thee  ? 


119 


Che  Bird  and  the  Grave. 

f    \VER  her  form  I  hear  a  song 

VL/    That  wraps  my  heart— the  whole  year  long! 

It  comes  with  love  and  tender  Spring, 

And  woven  in  each  nest-wound  string, 

There  is  a  Peace  that  shall  prevail! 

SweetSong!    Sweet  Nest!    Sweet  Nightingale! 

I  know,  from  God  the  bird  doth  come, 
As,  from  The  Ark,  the  dove  did  roam. 
It  brings  its  song  from  Heaven's  gate 
To  tell  me  that  her  soul  doth  wait 

To  welcome  me  with  boundless  love. 

Sweet  Ark!    Sweet  Gate!    Sweet  earlier  Dove ! 

Blest  be  thy  bower  O  bird  of  joy! 

Blest  be  thy  dear,  divine  employ, 

Thou  messenger  of  heavenly  peace ! 

And  may  thy  fledglings  never  cease 

To  come— to  grow— and  aye  prolong 

Sweet  Hope !  Sweet  Faith !  Sweet  angel  Song ! 

Ah!  in  my  heart  there  is  a  nest 
Where  once  she  laid  her  pledges  blest, 
And  covered  them  so  warm  and  true, 
And  mothered  them  and  upward  flew 

To  bring  them  to  God's  Bosom  pure. 

Sweet  Pledge !  Sweet  Home !  Sweet  Union  sure ! 


' 

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